Never Knew I Needed
by Hetsez
Summary: Set in AC3. Stoic and arrogant Altaïr is sent to the Colonies to help the American assassins because of their lack of forces. He meets the American master assassin Connor, and has to face the fact that he can't always be the best at everything. Will he finally learn to be humble and friendly? Rated M for sexual themes in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey all, thank you for reading this fanfiction!_

 _I apologise for any grammatical errors I might have made. When I was writing this I wasn't as good as English as I am now... And I still have a lot to learn!_

 _Please leave reviews, I'd love to know what you think! c:_

* * *

The water of the seemingly endless sea splashed at the hull of the wooden three-master as it made its way across the Atlantic ocean. It was the only sound that could be heard here on open sea, along with the occasional orders barked by the captain of the ship.

The sun was setting, making the sea water sparkle and setting the boat in a warm light. The dark green ship with its yellow markings along the side swayed a little, causing some of its passengers to feel nauseous. Those could mostly be found on the deck of the ship, as it is believed that it is best to watch the horizon while being seasick.

This also applied for a certain white hooded man, who was watching the sea, not the horizon, for he believed that did the trick. Said man closed his eyes as he felt yet another wave of nausea coming over him, trying to control it. He opened his eyes again as he felt a bit better, and only raised his head a little as a rough male voice behind him made its presence known.

" _Sir, we will be reaching the colonies by tomorrow afternoon, if we are lucky."_

The white hooded man nodded without looking at the other, but knowing it was the captain by his harsh voice he had heard shouting throughout the whole day.

" _If we are lucky?"_ The man asked, now turning around.

" _Aye, if there will be no stormy weather, that is."_ The captain, who looked to be in his fifties or sixties, had a worn out face from being on his ship every day, in every weather. He had countless wrinkles and a serious, sun-tanned face. He stood with his hands on his hips and his feet firmly planted on the wooden deck. He held his head high and his chest forward.

The captain knew that this passenger could be dangerous, the weapons all over his body established that. Though he didn't show any fear towards the white hooded man, which surprised the seasick man a bit. Most people would flinch under his scowl, although they couldn't even see his eyes. Maybe that's what made him so eerie.

" _There better not be."_ The white hooded man said simple, and the air around them felt heavy all of a sudden.

They stared each other down for a few seconds, as if playing a stare contest.

Then the captain grumbled and moved away. He let his arms fall down by his side in silent defeat. The white hooded man seemed to show a bit of a smirk as he walked past the captain.

The captain couldn't wait until they reached America. This man had been a burden throughout the whole journey, with that arrogant character of his.

The captain watched the other go down the stairs and into the ship with angry eyes and spat on the floor. This man was the devil himself.

" _Ah, master! Are you feeling any better?"_

" _Move aside, novice. How I'm feeling is none of your business."_ The still seasick man said as he walked into the cabin where his companions – who were lower in rank than he – had spent the days while they had first gotten on the boat.

The _'novice'_ backed away slowly towards the others, where they gave him sympathetic looks and pats on his back for being treated like scum by their leader. They sat on the hard wooden bench and continued talking.

The white hooded man coughed a little to get the other white hooded people's attention.

" _Assassins… I am being told we will be reaching the colonies tomorrow afternoon. We moor at the harbour of New York. There we will be greeted by our American allies, " He hated it when he had to add: "At the moment you get off the boat I am no longer your leader. You will have to listen to the American assassins' mentor. Got it?"_ The white hooded man looked around. The others nodded quickly.

" _Good."_ The man said and waved the others dismissively off with his hand.

Still feeling nauseous, the man had decided to spend the rest of the time before dinner on the upper decks, before he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

" _A-Altaïr…?"_ The man, Altaïr, turned around with an annoyed look on his face.

" _What is it, Kadar?"_ Altaïr asked annoyed. He noticed it was the _'novice'_ that had asked him on his wellbeing when he had entered the cabin.

" _I wanted to know, is this a temporary task or are we transmitted to America for… forever?"_

Altaïr sighed. _"Haven't you paid any attention at all? This is a temporary thing. They need some more hands as apparently there aren't a lot of assassins in the colonies."_

" _Oh. Ok thanks."_ Kadar's face brightened up a little as he walked back to the others who were playing a cards game.

 _Cards games… Those novices are so immature…_ Altaïr thought as he made his way to the deck.

After the disgusting 'dinner' the sip provided, Altaïr went straight to his cabin to sleep. He felt too nauseous anyway to stay with the others.

He had never been too keen on travelling by ship. It was just now, he had to.

He placed himself on the matrass and felt the boat sway on the waves. Altaïr stared at the low ceiling of his cabin, mentally preparing himself for a foreign country, with a foreign language and all sorts of nationalities. He hated this trip already.

He closed his eyes and thought back of the day where this… nightmare had begun.

" _Master, master! We have just learned how to dodge!"_ Three _'novices'_ surrounded Altaïr as he was cleaning his hidden blade.

The master assassin cocked an eyebrow and let the blade go back into its place.

" _Oh have you now?"_ Altaïr said unimpressed.

" _You bet! We even beat our teacher!"_ The boys laughed.

Altaïr stood and grinned.

" _Your teacher must be weak, then. If he couldn't even beat some novices…"_

" _You are weak! We can take you, as well!"_ They shouted.

Altaïr's grin widened.

" _Um… Well master, we never use real swords…"_

" _Indeed, our teacher always lets us practice with wooden swords."_

The novices looked at each other and then to Altaïr, who was holding three swords from the weapon room.

" _Don't chicken out now, eh? Or are you afraid I'm going to beat you?"_

Altaïr's tease was enough for the novices to make up their mind. Apparently their need to get respect from the marvellous master assassin was more important than the fact that they could get hurt.

" _Bring it on, coward!"_ One of the boys yelled as he took a sword from Altaïr.

They stood in the training ring Altaïr remembered oh-so well. Here he and Abbas had put an end to their friendship. Altaïr shook his head in pity of said man. He still had his head filled with memories of a long lost friendship when the first of the boys came up to him, seeing a gap in Altaïr's defence.

But Altaïr was quick to react and parried the sword with his own with ease. To let the boy know he shouldn't try again to surprise a master assassin, he punched the boy hard in his stomach. The poor novice gulped and fell to his knees.

" _Defeated already?"_ Altaïr teased and the boy quickly stood up and backed down.

Now one of the other boys, a taller one, stood forward. Ready to avenge his friend.

Altaïr only sniggered. _Who do they think they are?_

With a cry that was supposed to scare Altaïr off, but failed to do so as it sounded unconfident, he ran forward, sword pointed at Altaïr.

Altaïr waited till the last moment the sword would pierce him, and simply stepped aside while the boy tumbled past Altaïr. He planted his elbow in the neck of the boy, who lost balance and hit the floor, face down, flat on his stomach.

Altaïr shook his head and sniggered once more.

" _I thought you learned how to dodge, yet you keep on attacking me first."_ Altaïr shouted. The tall boy stood up and rubbed his neck as he made his way back to the others.

The last boy stepped forward, more cautious as he had seen what had happened to his companions. They circled around each other for a moment, when Altaïr decided to strike. He aimed for the boy's right shoulder, but quickly changed it and went for his left underarm as the boy was already protecting his left side. Altaïr's blade made a deep cut in the unarmoured arm of the novice, who quickly grabbed his injured arm.

The other two boys quickly stepped on either side of their friend, swords drawn.

" _Don't you dare do that again!"_ The taller one of them screamed as he made the foolish mistake again of attacking the master assassin first, instead of letting him come to them. His anger seemed to cloud his common sense.

Altaïr deflected the sword and disarmed the tall novice without too much effort. The sword clattered on the ground and Altaïr hit the boy on his forehead with the stump end of the hilt of his sword.

" _What are you going to do about it, then?"_ Altaïr smirked.

Now all three of them started circling the master assassin, weary of their movements.

Though Altaïr could see them communicating as to who would strike first. He took that opportunity to swing his sword at the leg of the novice who had faced him first. The boy screamed. Having practised with wooden swords only, the boys weren't used to pain as such.

Altaïr took the fortunate opportunity again as the boys were still in shock.

He turned around and with a swing of his sword he disarmed the tall novice once again. The boy tried to find his balance but was too late as Altaïr had pulled out his dagger and stabbed it into the boy's left shoulder.

The boy cried out in pain.

Altaïr turned around at a speed that was inhuman, flicking out his hidden blade, going for the last boy standing.

" _ALTAÏR. WHAT DO YOU_ _ **THINK**_ _YOU ARE DOING!?"_ A voice shouted from behind.

Altaïr instantly stopped and the bloodlust he had only seconds ago had now fully disappeared. He dropped his sword to the ground in terror and turned around.

" _Master…"_


	2. Chapter 2

" _Altaïr, you are a downright disgrace for our creed!"_ The master of the assassins said slamming his hand on the table before him. Altaïr decided his feet were more interesting to watch than ever.

When their master, Al Mualim, had intervened Altaïr's massacre he had send his assassins to take care of the injured students, and some to literary drag Altaïr inside the fortress to Al Mualim's study room. They heartlessly threw him on the ground there and were dismissed by Al Mualim. Altaïr stood up to his feet, only to get a hand of his master slapped against his cheek, what made him know his place as he bowed his head in shame.

" _Not only that, you must be the most arrogant man in whole of Syria. No, probably even the world!"_

Al Mualim looked angry at his best assassin, but his scowl wasn't received as Altaïr still hung his head.

Al Mualim sighed.

" _Altaïr… You know I must kill you for compromising the brotherhood."_ Altaïr's head shot up in terror.

" _But master I…"_ Altaïr started, but his pleadings were interrupted by Al Mualim himself.

" _Hold your tong, ibn-La'Ahad."_

Altaïr looked curiously at his master, who seemed to be overthinking something.

Al Mualim sighed once again and rubbed his hand over his old face.

" _Unfortunately, I cannot afford to lose my best assassin."_ Altaïr grinned and stood tall and proud again, only to sink back to his ashamed pose once more and return to a serious face as Al Mualim looked angry at him as a warning.

" _That doesn't mean I will not punish you for this unforgiving event you committed."_ Now it was Altaïr's turn to sigh.

" _Here's the thing. I have a team of assassins leaving Syria tomorrow for a major mission abroad. The master assassin who is accompanying them now has been complaining about the length and the destination of the trip, for he has a family here to take care of."_ Al Mualim paused to see if Altaïr already got the message, but the assassin just stood there listening interestedly with his head askew like an adorable -but not to forget: deadly- puppy.

" _Altaïr, I want you to take this master assassin's place as the leader of the mission,"_ He said finally. _"so you might learn what responsibility is."_

Altaïr looked at Al Mualim for a long time, letting his words sink into his mind. It was an important mission, that was for sure. And that Al Mualim had enough faith in him that he made him leader of it, showed that the cold master cared about his favourite assassin. Plus, a mission abroad didn't occur much, as the countries surrounding Syria all had their own Assassin's Creeds.

After a long time of just staring at nothing Altaïr shook his head to stop his thinking and he looked at Al Mualim with clear eyes again.

" _I accept this mission."_

" _Arrogant boy, that's the only thing you can do."_ Al Mualim stated. Altaïr looked embarrassed.

" _What is the destination of this mission?"_ Altaïr quickly added.

" _The Colonies."_

Altaïr's eyes widened and he had to do his best not to let his mouth hang open.

" _That is going to be quite a journey, master."_ Altaïr could finally bring out.

" _And I have faith you will succeed."_ Al Mualim said with a smile. They looked at each other for a moment, Altaïr's face still showed how shocked he was by the news that he had to leave his homeland Syria tomorrow, and exchange it for another continent. _**Continent.**_ Of which he knew little than that it was in a constant war with Great Britain and its original inhabitants.

Where Altaïr's face was plain shock, Al Mualim's was one of amusement. For once the so confident and proud master assassin didn't know what to say and looked uncomfortable.

After giving Altaïr time to take in all the information Al Mualim nodded.

" _That is arranged, then. The ship which will take you and your eight companions to America will leave tomorrow at sunrise. Be sure to be on time, for you can't afford another error,"_ He gave Altaïr a look of warning, before he added _"This is your last chance, Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad."_

Altaïr only nodded while mentally preparing himself for a long trip to a foreign land.

" _Ah Altaïr, you did show up!"_ A man came up to Altaïr and smiled friendly at him. _"I'm the one who was supposed to lead this mission, I'm very glad you volunteered to do it."_ He said shaking Altaïr's hand and murmuring a name which Altaïr immediately forgot. _So Al Mualim told him I volunteered to make this cursed journey?_ Altaïr thought to himself as the man let go of his hand.

" _First things first: you have 8 assassins in your team. Two elder ones, four around your age and one novice. All are ranked normal assassin, except for the last boy, of course."_ The man smiled.

" _Hold on there, since when does the master send novices on missions like this?"_ Altaïr asked, clearly not happy to know he'll have to babysit a little boy.

" _Well it isn't as if he just learned to use a sword. But he could use some mentoring. It's for him to get some experience."_ He said apologetically.

Altaïr just sighed as he listened to the rest of the information the other had to tell him.

" _Well then, I wish you a good journey and a safe return."_ The man said finally and shook Altaïr's hand again. _"Now I have some business that need my attention urgently. Farewell."_ And he was off.

Altaïr continued on, backpack on his back, to be stopped once again by a fellow assassin.

" _Malik,"_ Altaïr smiled.

Malik Al Sayf was Altaïr's best friend and seriously the only one that could see through his arrogance and pride, and who could live with it. When Altaïr had just become an assassin, he was sent on minor missions together with Malik and they had become friends over time. Having to deal with a stoic, arrogant assassin almost 24/7, Malik had grown used to it. Malik was honestly the only one that could say something insulting to Altaïr without paying a price -like as a broken nose- for it. He could also bring Altaïr back to earth when he was once again showing off his skills or being too arrogant. When Altaïr had become a master assassin they weren't send on missions together anymore. But they still talked every now and then and he knew he could trust Malik blindly. Yes, Altaïr should consider himself lucky with a friend like Malik, but of course Altaïr didn't say that aloud.

" _What are you doing here brother?"_

Malik's face turned serious after greeting his old friend kindly.

" _I just need to know. Are you sure about this mission? Can you handle the responsibility?"_

Altaïr was trying to figure out how to tell his best friend that he was forced by Al Mualim to go on this mission as a last chance as a hope for life. Because that was exactly what it was, Altaïr had thought the day before. _It's this mission or dying._

"… _you never volunteered did you…?"_ Malik guessed. Damn his friend knew him too well. _"Does this has to do with that incident you were involved with yesterday?"_

" _Malik…"_ Altaïr tried.

Malik shook his head. _"No Altaïr you don't understand. They've put Kadar on this mission."_

Altaïr looked confused, to exchange it to anger quickly.

" _You don't trust me? Is that it?"_ Altaïr growled.

" _No I don't, to be honest. Just yesterday you almost killed three students. I don't feel very comfortable with leaving my little brother with you now."_ Malik returned Altaïr's scowl. _"And in another country…"_

A few seconds passed with the two of them just looking at each other, trying to make the other flinch but none of them succeeded.

Eventually it was Malik who huffed.

" _But there is little I can do about it now. There's no way in changing Al Mualim's mind on this mission. I just want you to keep an eye on my brother, please."_ The last part he added while he turned his gaze to the ground and softening his voice. Altaïr almost felt sorry for his friend.

Altaïr sighed. _"Of course I will watch over your brother."_

Malik looked up hopefully and smiled. He gave his friend a brotherly hug and closed his eyes. To trust this man with his beloved brother…

They broke apart from the hug and nodded at each other.

" _Altaïr."_

" _Malik."_

" _Safe journey. May fortune favour your blade."_


	3. Chapter 3

Altaïr bended over the railing of the ship and emptied the contents of his stomach. After everything was out and he didn't feel like gagging anymore, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed.

He had woken up feeling especially nauseous, and after getting up and dressing his stomach couldn't hold it any longer. He had ran to the deck of the ship and the rest was history.

Altaïr looked over the sea to see the sun rise. The sky coloured orange around the horizon and the rest was a beautiful shade of blue. The sea mirrored the sun, making the seawater sparkle.

Altaïr narrowed his eyes at the bright light and a faint smile was forming on his lips. This was a beautiful world indeed.

He didn't feel like having breakfast, but he did feel a bit better now he had thrown up.

The rest of the morning Altaïr spent resting on his bed and dozing off every now and then.

"Master, the captain asked me to inform you that we will arrive at New York shortly." Altaïr groaned because his sleep had been interrupted and he sat up to scowl at the female assassin, who was about his age. She had her hood up, but her dark brown hair was visible as it rested in short locks on her chest.

"I- I'm so sorry master, I didn't know you were sleeping."She stuttered as he kept scowling at her.

Altaïr finally turned his head away from the woman and stood up.

" Go pack your things. Tell the others to do so as well. I'll meet you on the deck."

The female nodded and left quickly.

Altaïr sighed as he started to grab all of his stuff. It wasn't much, though. Some books, a clean robe in case his got dirty or it needed to be washed and spare-throwing knives. The rest of his weapons -his sword, dagger and throwing knives- he had taken off before he had been resting. So he put those in the rightful places again. He hadn't detached his hidden blade from his left arm though when he went to rest, just in case.

As he had packed all his belongings he sat down on his bed for the last time and hid his face behind his hands and sighed. He wished he was still in Masyaf, at the assassin's hideout. The sight of the magnificent castle still laid fresh in his memories. He could hear the swords clashing against each other while novices trained with them in the training rings, while being yelled at by their trainers. He could smell the books in the library of their master, Al Mualim, who had sent him on this cursed mission. The murmuring of the assassins present in the library and the silent movements of the females in the gardens of the castle. It all came back to Altaïr and he had to admit he felt homesick.

Altaïr removed his hands from his face and stared at the wooden wall across from him.

 _No. I am not in Masyaf anymore. The master has faith in me succeeding this mission and I will not let him down. I am Altaïr Ibn- La'Ahad, the master's favourite master assassin for God's sake._

And with that in mind Altaïr stood up confidently, grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He then exited the cabin he had been sleeping in over the past months without a glance over his shoulder, and made his way to the deck where the others were probably waiting for him.

Altaïr could barely hide his happiness to be on solid ground again. But of course, it would be out of character of him to sink to his knees and kiss the ground. A.k.a., join Kadar.

His companions smiled at him and the two women present on the trip –the brown haired one that had disturbed his sleep, who was around his age and a blonde, who was one of the two older assassins- chuckled at him as they thought him to be cute.

"Kadar stand up now. You're making a fool out of yourself." Altaïr hissed. He could hear someone murmur ' _killjoy_ ' as Kadar stood up quickly. Altair shot an angry glare at the group, but couldn't find the one who had said it.

"Excuse me, are you the Syrian assassins?" A voice came from behind Altaïr.

He turned around and was faced by three people, two men and a woman. The man on the left was bald and had a brown moustache. He wore a moss green tunic and white gloves. The man on the right had a small beard and a large hat on his head, one Altaïr had never seen before. In between them stood the woman. She was small and had a short black ponytail and had a green handkerchief tied around her neck.

Altaïr cocked an eyebrow.

"Who wants to know?"

The woman was the first to speak up.

"My name is Deborah Carter. This is Jacob Zenger and this is Jamie Colley." She first pointed at the bald man and then at the man with the strange hat. Deborah looked at Altaïr expectantly.

"My name is Altaïr ibn- La'Ahad and these are my companions." Altaïr's companions, of whom he didn't know their names except Kadar –not that he bothered to try and remember the others' names- quickly introduced themselves.

"Good, so you are the assassins from Syria. Let's get this started, then." Apparently Al Mualim had given them his name. It was the female who had spoken up again. _She clearly thinks herself the leader of the American group._ Altaïr noticed as he held his head high. **He** was the master assassin here.

"Hold on there. Are you the only assassins of America…?" Altaïr said, not believing this whole country was being protected from Templars by just these three assassins, who didn't even wore assassins' robes.

"Just let me explain, handsome. Don't interrupt me." She said. Altaïr cocked an eyebrow at that.

"Davenport is the place where our headquarters are. Our leader is Achilles Davenport, but he is like your mentor. He's quite old and doesn't do missions anymore. He's got Connor Kenway for that, our master assassin. Connor has recruited us and we are stationed here in New York to keep an eye out for Templar activities. The same applies for Boston; there are also three recruits stationed there, ready to aid our master assassin. So to answer your question: no, we have a mentor, Achilles and a master assassin, Connor, living at the Homestead of Davenport. In Boston there are three recruits and we are here in New York. So that makes eight of us."

Altaïr just stood there, watching the three _novices_ , trying to remember at least the name of their mentor and his competitor –No, scratch that- 'fellow master assassin', because the other six clearly aren't really important here.

"Now onto the important matters," The woman continued. "Achilles is your leader now. You do not have to and must not listen to any orders Altaïr gives you. Understood? You now obey Achilles." She addressed the Syrian assassins behind Altaïr, and they nodded feeling happy. Altaïr frowned and scowled at the woman, though she couldn't see it for his hood hid his eyes.

" _Well then, Achilles orders the following. We will split you up in three groups, each going to either Boston or the Homestead, or staying here with us in New York."_ She paused for a moment and looked around. The other two males beside her just stood there with their arms folded, apparently used to the short woman giving orders.

" _I want one of the two elder assassins going to Boston and one staying here. Two of the four normal assassins go to Boston and the other two stay here as well. If the information I have received from Achilles is right, there should also be a recruit? He stays with the master assassin and both go to the Homestead. Am I clear?"_

Altaïr groaned inwardly. True, fortunately he didn't had to stay with those novices, but he had to take his own novice with him. He turned to look at the boy, who was smiling brightly. He had heard from Malik that Altaïr was Kadar's role model. _(Malik disapproved of this.)_ Well, at least he could keep his promise to Malik to keep Kadar safe. He thought as Kadar came to stand beside him.

As everybody was done dividing into the three groups, Deborah spoke again.

" _Jamie rides with you to Boston, Jacob will take you to the Homestead and I will stay here with you and show you around a bit and show you where you stay."_ She said, first to the first group while Jamie walked over to them and shook their hands. Then Jacob - _the bald one,_ Altaïr thought- walked over to him and Kadar and nodded to the both of them. She then walked over to the last group and everybody said their goodbye's.

Altaïr wasn't as emotional about saying goodbye as the others.

They were only temporary here and he hoped to see them again soon, because that would be on their trip home. Plus he didn't even know their names and they were lower ranked than he anyway.

" _Shall we be off, then?"_ The man said, walking over to three horses and gesturing at Altaïr and Kadar to follow him.

When Jacob was seated on the back of a black mare, Altaïr on a white stallion and Kadar on a –smaller- brown gelding, they took off to the city's gates.

There were lots of people on the streets of the city. Altaïr saw rich people shopping, other people chatting in alleys and children on the sides of streets, laughing at passer-by's. Mice ran over the cobbles of the streets and he saw dogs fighting cats. He heard mostly the English language, but sometimes he could make out some words of languages unknown to him. Altaïr also noticed how many men with guns, dressed in red robes marched around the city.

" _You are not from here, are you?"_ Altaïr asked the bald man as they had left the big city of New York behind. He had heard an accent in the man's voice, one that the woman who had greeted them didn't had.

" _That's true,"_ The man said, speeding his horse up to a trot. _"I'm originally from Germany."_ The man added with a smile.

They didn't talk anymore for the rest of the trip through the woods.

There were different trees, plants and animals than the ones Altaïr knew from Syria. People were dressed differently, and it was much colder here than in his homeland, though he had been told it was summer in America.

After some time Jacob suddenly spoke up, waking Altaïr from his thoughts.

" _The sun is starting to set and I still have to get back home to New York. So I will leave you know. This road will lead you to Davenport. You need to be at the second last house on your right. It's a big, white house with stables next to it. You can't miss it."_ They had stopped their horses and Jacob had turned his around.

" _I hope our paths will cross again, master. I have heard a lot about you. Goodbye for now, and a safe journey."_ Jacob said with his German accent. The three of them nodded at each other and Jacob left them, leaving in a fast gallop.

Altaïr looked over at Kadar who watched Jacob go with fear in his eyes. He then turned his head to meet Altaïr's gaze.

" _We won't get lost Kadar, trust me. Now let's continue on."_ Altaïr said and they let their horses walk again, and soon made them trod.

After half an hour the road suddenly bent down and they had a nice view of a small village. Because the sun was setting, many people were already in their wooden houses. The lights behind the windows were on and one could see smoke coming out of each houses' chimneys.

" _I think we're here, master."_ Kadar said with a smile on his tired face.

" _Told you."_ Was all Altaïr said as the horses walked down the road to the village.

They passed many houses, and Altaïr could feel eyes on him, coming from out of the houses. Nosy villagers peeked from under their curtains, but Altaïr pretended he didn't notice them.

Soon they reached a large, white house, with stables on the right side of it. Just as Altaïr and Kadar jumped off their horses and rubbed their sore asses from the long ride on the hard saddles, someone opened the door of the house. Altaïr and Kadar had taken the reigns of the horses' bridle in one hand.

A man with a very dark skin and a bent back, leaning on a stick came outside first. He wore a hat and a red tunic with a white jacket over it. After him came a tall, broad man. Altaïr had expected him to have his hood up, as was expected from an assassin. But this man had it down and it showed his dark brown hair, tied messily in a ponytail. His robes were white, but different from the ones Altaïr and the other Syrian assassins wore. He had a gun and a tomahawk at his belt and he wore a bow and arrows on his back.

They slowly came down the steps as both parties inspected each other without saying words.

Once they stood in front of each other the old dark man spoke up.

" _I assume you are the Syrian assassins. I am Achilles and this is Connor."_ Achilles said without looking at the other man but Altaïr did and saw how the man had disliked that he was introduced, apparently he had wanted to do it himself. _"I hope you had a safe journey, both over sea and land?"_ Achilles asked.

" _Nothing to worry about, master. We are merely tired."_

" _Exhausted from the look of the boy's face!"_ Achilles laughed and all three men turned to look at the novice. Kadar turned red.

" _What's you name boy?"_ Achilles now asked and put a hand on his shoulder.

" _Kadar al-Sayf, master."_ Kadar said obediently.

" _Oh no, you too have those impossible names?!"_ Achilles groaned as he looked from Kadar to Altaïr.

Kadar and Altaïr looked at the older man confused.

" _Never mind, that's a story for later,"_ And winked at Connor. _"Now let's get inside. Connor, will you lead the horses to the stables?"_

After entering the house he just told them where to sleep. To Altaïr's great annoyance they had to sleep in the same room, in separate beds. They dropped their bags and decided to unpack tomorrow. They wanted to sleep really badly. When Achilles had left them, they chose beds. Kadar took the one that stood against the wall in opposite of the door, and Altaïr took the one close to the door.

Altaïr laid on his bed and found it to be very comfortable. He closed his eyes and immediately drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Unfortunately, assassins were trained to wake at the slightest sound.

The sound of the door being shut was all it took to wake up the master assassin. Immediately his muscles were tensed, ready to jump out of bed and…

Altaïr looked around in the room where he laid in his bed. _Right… I'm in America…_

It was quite a large room, and the sun already lit it through the curtains. He saw the two closets standing next to each other; one for him and one for the novice he had to drag around for the upcoming months… Speaking of said novice, Altaïr turned his head in the direction that the boy laid in the bed against the wall on the opposite of the door, where Altaïr had his bed. Kadar was still fast asleep, and Altaïr decided to let him sleep when he remembered the tired look of the boy's face from yesterday.

Though Altaïr did get up. He knew he couldn't sleep anymore anyway, and he was quite hungry.

He didn't need to dress because he was so tired yesterday night, he had gone to bed just in his robes; though he had taken of his weapons and armour. Altaïr didn't put those on now for he didn't expect someone to attack him in the assassins' safe house.

Silently, he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Now Altaïr stood in a hall that had four doors. All were open but the one he had just closed. He decided he would look around in those rooms another time _Because hey, he needed to know where he was staying, right?_ and took the stairs that led him to the ground floor.

As he stepped off the last step he was faced by the door he guessed he had heard to be closed a few minutes ago. On his left side he saw a huge dining room with red walls and on his right was some sort of a study room. He turned and started walking in the direction of a delicious smell.

It turned out to come from the last room on the right which had no door. He turned and looked inside to see his 'fellow master assassin' with his back towards him, busy with some food that was being warmed up above the fire of the fireplace. The smell that reached Altaïr's nose was heavenly, and Altaïr just stood there in the doorway silently sniffing like a dog.

Connor must have sensed his presence, for he turned around and looked at the other with a smile.

"Good morning, Altaïr. You must be hungry, you're up early?" His name sounded very weird on the tongue of the American man.

"Connor," Altaïr nodded, and continued: "Actually I was woken up by the front door being closed."

"Oh that was Achilles, he went to get some more bread and milk." Connor explained.

Awkward silence.

Connor just turned to stir in the pan on the fire.

Altaïr shrugged and walked into the kitchen and sat down at the large wooden table. The walls and even the ceiling of the kitchen were white, and on the walls hung some dried plants. Hooks were hung up from the ceiling and they carried all kinds of meat.

Altaïr watched Connor as he placed two bowls and two spoons on the table.

"You're hungry?"

"Nah." Though Altaïr's stomach loudly disagreed.

Connor snickered.

"I already thought so. I made this soup for myself; but seeing as Achilles is taking long to return I'll share it with you before you pass out because of a lack of food."

Connor turned and got the pan off the fire and grabbed a ladle and walked over to the table.

Connor filled Altaïr's bowl with the soup he had been making since Altaïr had entered the kitchen.

Altaïr looked suspiciously at the foreign food and then to Connor, who was now filling his own bowl, and then to the soup again. There were all kinds of tiny pieces of vegetables floating in the green-ish hot water.

Connor had put the pan away and seated himself on the opposite of Altaïr and eyed the other with expectant eyes.

Altaïr had grabbed his spoon, but was still in a dilemma with himself to eat this strange soup or not. – A soup that was provided by his _competitor_ , by the way.

"Just try it." Connor said calmly.

Altaïr looked up and back to the soup again, and then he slowly put the spoon in it and brought it to his mouth.

 _Damn this stuff is good._

"Well?" Connor asked as Altaïr had swallowed.

"Yeah, it's ok I guess…" Altaïr answered not impressed, and he continued eating the soup.

"My mother used to make it for me when I was little." Connor said out of the blue.

Altaïr looked up.

"Cute."

Then they both continued eating in an awkward silence.

Altaïr tried to eat reluctantly, but he enjoyed every single swallow of this soup.

After a little while they heard the door open and close again. Both looked up and in the direction of the entrance to the kitchen. From his spot on the wooden bench Altaïr could see the room on the opposite of the kitchen, which was a small living room.

Then his view was blocked by the old man he met yesterday. _Achilles._

"Altaïr, good to see you up already."

The two master assassins greeted their mentor.

Achilles made himself breakfast and sat down next to Connor.

"I would update you on our progress with the American Templars, but I think it would be best if you'd just see. Connor, would you show Altaïr the room?" Achilles said before stuffing some bread in his mouth. Altaïr cocked an eyebrow. _The room?_

"What about the boy, doesn't he need to know?" But Achilles just shook his head and when he had swallowed he added: "He doesn't need to know all of the names, for he will just be doing minor missions here. He's just a student, remember?" Connor nodded.

He stood up and motioned for Altaïr to follow.

Connor turned left immediately when he had left the kitchen and stood before a wall. Altaïr stood behind him and widened his eyes in surprise as Connor pulled at the candle hanging on the wall on the left and the one they were facing disappeared. Altaïr peeked over Connor's shoulder and saw stairs leading downstairs to some basement.

When they had descended the stairs, Altaïr found himself in a weapon room. In front of him there were quite a few assassins' robes displayed, all different and unique from each other. Altaïr looked to his right side to see Connor had already walked up to a wall that was filled with paintings and words.

He walked over to Connor

"Your targets?" Altaïr guessed.

"Correct. I use this wall to keep track of their activities and current states."

Altaïr let his eyes travel over the paintings of the men.

"I brought three Templars down already. Nicholas Biddle is my next target. I hope you could help me doing that." Connor asked and turned to Altaïr.

Altaïr looked at Connor and then to the paintings again.

"Who is the Templar leader?"

Connor seemed to hesitate to answer the question.

"Haytham. Haytham Kenway."

"Are you related?" Altaïr did remember the other man's name, as well as his last name.

Connor hesitated again.

"He's my father."

Now Altaïr fully turned to Connor. "I beg your pardon?" _How can I trust this man as a partner if his dad is a Templar?_

"He left my mother before I was even born. I haven't had any contact with him when I chose the path of the assassins." Connor stood closer to Altaïr and pointed accusingly at him.

"I. Am. Not. Like. Him."

The two stood scowling at each other.

"Good, so you can bring him down without getting emotional?"

Connor snorted and turned away. Altaïr watched him trying to calm down.

There was a heavy silence when Connor put his hands on the table in front of the wall and tried to breath normal again. Altaïr just looked at the painting of the master of the Templars. Then his eyes moved over the other names, of which three were still alive. _Four targets… This mission shouldn't take long._ Altaïr thought happily.

Connor removed his hands from the table and stood tall again and watched the paintings, probably the one of his father.

"So, where can we find this Nicholas Biddle?" Altaïr tried to cheer the other up. _Why would I even do that?_ Apparently he felt sorry for Connor. Well he didn't want his dad to have been a Templar right?

"At sea."

And now it was Altaïr who could use some cheering up.


	5. Chapter 5

"I think it might be good for you to meet the villagers. They like to know what's going on in their village and it might be a nice thing to know for them that there are two more assassins here to protect them."

Altaïr and Connor had left the basement and were now standing in the kitchen where Achilles and Kadar sat eating their breakfast. Kadar looked like he still half slept.

"Would you show them around, Connor?" Achilles added, more like an order than a question.

Connor looked annoyed at Achilles. He and Altaïr didn't get along very well already, that much came clear from their small fight in the basement. Altaïr didn't look pleased as well. He didn't trust the other and he had better things to do than meet some random people. He was a master assassin, when did the actual missions start?

"You'll have to work together in the future so why not get to know each other better?" Achilles asked, not understanding why Altaïr and Connor looked annoyed. Connor groaned.

"Be back before supper." Achilles said when Kadar stood up to join the two older assassins.

They went upstairs to strap on their weapons and armour and met again outside of the front door.

After a while they had met most of the villagers, and Altaïr found it damn boring to keep being polite and repeating his name and his birthplace all over and over again. Kadar didn't mind much, people were nice to him and he felt proud when they said they were amazed that a boy his age was already a skilled fighter. _A novice. He's just a novice._ Altaïr got more and more irritated. Good thing they only had to meet one last family.

As they left the road and walked up to a wooden barn, Altaïr heard the howl of a wolf. _Do wild animals live this close to the humans here?_ Connor led them to the right side of the barn, where a man was busy weeding. When they came closer to him he turned around and wiped the sweat of his forehead with a napkin.

"Connor, it's good to see you." The man said friendly, a bit out of breath.

"Warren," Connor nodded. "these two men are here to help me keep this village safe." He didn't mention 'country', or that they were assassins. He hadn't told any of the villagers they had met and Altaïr wondered why. Wasn't he proud to be a master assassin? Or an assassin in general? He didn't mention it himself, though. He just eyed Connor suspiciously.

Warren shook Kadar's hand while they introduced themselves and then he turned to Altaïr. Warren was a dark man with a straw hat on his head and some dirty, ragged clothes. His face was friendly though and when they had shook hands he asked them: "Interesting names, you're not from here are you?"

And Altaïr groaned inwardly as he had to explain _again_ that they were from Syria. None of the villagers actually asked how the American man knew Syrians, but Altaïr was content with that. Otherwise he had to tell yet another story every time.

"Where's Prudence and Hunter?"

"Inside, Prudence is making dinner." Then he told Altaïr and Kadar: "Prudence is my wife and Hunter is our lovely son, and if Connor hadn't been there, my son would've died." He said proudly and nodded at Connor. Altaïr rolled his eyes.

Then Altaïr noticed movement behind Warren and Kadar. Both men stood with their backs facing it, but it moved quickly. Before it could strike and surprise Kadar and Warren Altaïr had turned around the group and knocked it away. The thing whined and fell to the ground, where Connor jumped on top of it, hidden blade drawn and stabbed it.

Warren and Kadar had only just turned around and had white faces and wide eyes. They looked at Connor who just stood up after muttering something, and then Altaïr could see it had been a wolf.

Then Warren turned to Altaïr. "You… You saved my life." He said in shock. He also looked at Connor. Both just shrugged like it had been nothing.

"I think it's best for you to go inside now, Warren." He patted the man on his back. "And we should go back as well." He said looking at Altaïr and then worriedly to Kadar, who still stood shaking.

After saying goodbye to Warren the three returned to Achilles' house. Kadar walked between them for he still was a bit anxious.

"You know, that was amazing! How did you do that? You two are such a great team already!" Kadar said amazed. Altaïr looked at Connor and he looked right back. Then they both quickly turned their heads forward again, both not wanting to admit that that _had_ been great teamwork. _So he can kill a wolf. I really hope he can also assassinate people when it comes to it. By the way, it was I who knocked the wolf away, he only did the easy job._ Altaïr thought as he held his head high.

Achilles had cooked a meal that was foreign to Altaïr and Kadar, but it tasted good and all four of them ate in silence. They didn't mention the incident with the wolf, because Connor had told them on their way back to Achilles' house that there lived many wild animals in this area. Kadar had had a look of fear in his eyes when Connor talked about the bears, wolves, bobcats, cougars and even aggressive elks that lived in the woods outside of the village. Altaïr had just rolled his eyes.

"So what will we do tomorrow?" Kadar broke the silence with his eagerness, mouth still full with food he was trying to swallow.

Achilles smiled at him, amused by his cheerfulness. "Tomorrow the three of you will ride to the Frontier to buy supplies for the journey Connor and Altaïr will make by boat." Altaïr looked up from his plate.

"I won't come along?" Kadar pouted.

"It will be a dangerous mission, Kadar. You will help me out here on the Homestead." Achilles told him.

"Now, tomorrow you'll be needing…" and Altaïr quit listening. He grew more annoyed with every word Achilles said until he just couldn't contain himself anymore.

"What's this crap?!" He interrupted Achilles. "We came here to kill Templars, not to do some novice missions! Buying supplies my ass, that's what we've got him for." And he pointed at Kadar next to him, who quickly looked away, offended.

Altaïr stood up from the table and slammed his hands on it, resting on them. "I'm too skilled to waste my time just riding horses around in this damned country. Just let us finish off these Templars!" Altaïr glared at the two American men in front of him, who just looked at him in surprise and shock; they hadn't expected an outburst from him all of a sudden.

Altaïr just turned and walked away from the kitchen with a curse in his own language, being stared after by three dumbfounded faces.

 _I have been here for a full day now, and we haven't done any Templar business yet. And tomorrow we won't do any as well._ He stamped up the stairs. _What's the problem with these people? I am **not** doing a mission that even Kadar could do. Buying supplies? I am wasting my great assassin abilities and my time here. _

His train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted when someone behind him pushed him against the wall of the hall upstairs. Altaïr had zoned out so much that he was too slow to react, and when he finally turned to the one who had pushed him, they had already pushed him against the wall.

"Who do you think you are!?" Connor growled at him. He pushed hard against Altaïr's chest and Altaïr had no space to push him away.

"What's your problem? Talk to me!" Connor pushed Altaïr even harder in the wall, their noses almost touching. Connor looked very angry, as if he was about to explode.

"What do you think, stupid? I am _not_ doing this novice mission tomorrow. I am way too skilled for such a dumb task." And he glared right back at Connor.

"Achilles gave you that mission and you'll have to do it. He's the leader here, you've got _nothing_ to say." He narrowed his eyes. "Your arrogant behaviour is condescending and it's unacceptable."

"How dare you say that…" Altaïr was not letting this guy get away with insulting him like that. He pushed his shoulder forward hard. Connor hadn't been expecting that and he took a few steps back. When Connor's weight was off him, Altaïr took one step forward and pushed Connor at the wall and planted his fist in his stomach. Connor wasn't letting him get away with that either and hit Altaïr's cheek hard with his fist. That had Altaïr taking a few steps back while he brought his hand to the bruise, giving Connor enough space to come forward.

The next moment they tried to punch and outsmart each other, but none of them was succeeding. Until Altaïr was going for a punch but kicked at Connor's left leg instead. Connor collapsed to the ground and Altaïr stood over him grinning. He was just about to say something when he too fell to the ground. Some hard thing had hit him in the back of the knees, but it couldn't have been Connor because he already lay on the ground. _What was that?_ Altaïr thought confused as he turned around.

When he turned himself on his back he found a stick pointing at his face. _So it had been the great mentor…_

"You think so highly of yourself. Yet you attack your ally, only because he said something bad about you. And then you both fight." He glanced at Connor as well before returning his attention to Altaïr. "You're nothing better now than a novice, even less, Altaïr. And that applies to both of you."

Altaïr snorted. "What do you know about it, old man."

Achilles lifted his stick and slammed it against Altaïr's cheek, just at the bruise Connor had given him. Altaïr groaned a curse as he brought his hand to his cheek again.

"Long way to go, boy. And for the rest of your stay here, hold your anger." He said pointing the stick at Altaïr's face again. Then he walked to the stairs and began descending them.

Altaïr rubbed his cheek as he got up. He and Connor exchanged some death glares and then they both parted ways to their own rooms.


	6. Chapter 6

Altaïr hadn't left his room for the rest of the evening. Apparently Kadar had had a good talk with Achilles, but when he joined Altaïr in their room he mentioned that Connor hadn't showed up downstairs either.

Altaïr had calmed down a bit. He had seriously misjudged Achilles. _It might be an old man, but he still got the strength of a skilled assassin. Not as quick as he used to be, but I should keep in mind not to offend him anymore._

Kadar talked excitedly about their mission tomorrow. It was clear that he was proud to join the two master assassins on a task, even though if it was just buying some supplies. But as Altaïr remained grumpy Kadar decided it was best to stop talking and go to bed instead. Altaïr did so too, and took off his weapons, armour and robes and pulled on his pyjama pants. He had also taken the pyjama shirt that belonged to the trousers, but actually never wore them.

Not long after they had put out the candles, Altaïr could hear Kadar's breathing go more even. He listened to the calming sound for a few minutes before noticing people talking in whispers in the hall.

"Connor, you don't have to protect me."

"But he insults you! He doesn't listen to anything you say and he feels he's superior to anybody else. How did they deal with him in Syria?!"

"As you have witnessed, I can stand up for myself just fine."

There was a short silence before Altaïr heard Achilles continue: "It's the reason they have send him here."

"Couldn't the Syrian mentor handle him anymore?"

"In a way, yes."

"What has happened, then?"

"I can't tell you that."

"…So you don't know?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then tell me."

"No. It's better if you didn't know."

"But if he has to be my partner, I need to know this."

Silence again.

"Connor, I won't tell you. But maybe in time, he will tell you himself. He has to face his mistakes sometime."

"Fine. Goodnight, master."

"Goodnight."

And with that, he heard two pair of feet walking away and not much later two doors were closed silently.

Altaïr sighed. _Mistakes_ Achilles had called it. _Pff, what is wrong with just a bit of fun?_ He thought as he turned around to lie on his right shoulder, facing the wall. _They are all a bunch of cowards, and nothing more._ He thought before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

The next morning he woke up because of a knock on the door.

"Altaïr. Kadar. Time to get up, you need to get going." It was Achilles.

Altaïr opened his eyes and stared at the green-ish grey wall. He didn't move a lot while he slept, so his right shoulder felt a bit painful. He moved to lie on his back, and turned his head to Kadar's bed. There wasn't any movement and Altaïr rolled his eyes.

"Kadar, wake up." He said loudly. Kadar moved a bit and groaned.

With a sigh Altaïr got up and walked over to the window just above Kadar's bed, and pushed the curtains open. Kadar pulled the covers of his bed over his face at that and groaned again. _This boy really needs too much sleep._ Altaïr thought while shaking his head. He then walked over to the other windows and pushed the curtains away as well.

In the meanwhile, Kadar sat up and rubbed his eyes with a yawn.

They quickly dressed and walked down the stairs to eat their breakfast.

There stood two plates that were used already - that was obvious from the breadcrumbs that laid on it -. On the other side of the table stood two clean plates, and Altaïr and Kadar sat down and grabbed the bread.

After finishing their breakfast, they walked outside to see Achilles and Connor with three horses, that were saddled up for a journey. Achilles was instructing Connor as they walked over to them.

"Ah good, there you are already." Achilles said and Connor turned around to look at the two Syrian assassins. At least Altaïr didn't look like he hated this mission anymore – He was well aware not to show it, otherwise Achilles would hit him with that stick of his again – but inwardly he still thought Kadar could easily do this mission on his own.

"Well, you better be off quick. Connor knows exactly what you need. Have a good trip." Achilles moved away from the horses so Altaïr and Kadar could both grab the reins.

Connor pulled himself up a brown and white Paint horse, and Altaïr followed his example as he sat down on a black one. Kadar had visibly more difficulty to get on his high chestnut horse, but after a bit of struggling he managed to steady himself in the saddle.

Achilles nodded at them and walked into his house again. Connor took the lead and made his Paint horse walk in the direction of the village. Altaïr held his horse short so Kadar's could follow Connor's. It was the safest for him to ride in the middle.

They walked through the village, and many people they had met yesterday greeted them.

Soon the horses walked out of the town, and Connor made his horse trod and Kadar's followed automatically. Altaïr pushed his forward too and was greeted by a beautiful sight.

Down below the road they were riding was a lake, and as far as Altaïr's eyes could see there were trees.

They rode on, and because the road was pretty narrow here, they continued trotting behind each other.

Soon the road went up and down and they walked over two bridges over water, with on the right side a waterfall.

They continued their way in gallop past hills, big stones, trees and fresh green bushes and grass.

When after a while the sun broke through the clouds, the temperature was just nice; with a small breeze that made the horses' manes sway.

Every now and then they saw some, as Connor called them, _Redcoats._ They were soldiers, and looked at them suspiciously, but left the assassins alone.

Then they came to a village, and shortly after they jumped off their horses at the shop.

"Kadar, will you remain outside to watch over the horses?" At first Altaïr was surprised Connor wanted to take him into the shop, but soon he understood. Connor needed someone to carry stuff, maybe heavy things, and Kadar didn't look very muscular.

Kadar nodded and Altaïr and Connor went in.

The shop was dark and smelled fusty. Connor ordered the supplies, and after a while they stood outside again with a part of it. The small things they could take with them on their horses, but Connor ordered for the larger stuff to be send by carriage. The man said he would deliver them today.

The three assassins filled their saddlebacks with the supplies, and Altaïr was happy to know that they were returning back now. At last he had obeyed Achilles, though he felt quite useless on this 'mission'.

They had just seated themselves on the backs of their horses when Altaïr noticed the sun had disappeared. He looked into the sky, at the place the sun should be – the west, for it was past 12 o'clock. – and saw nothing but dark clouds, which obviously contained a lot of water.

Apparently Connor had seen this too, because he turned around in his saddle to look at his comrades.

"We should get back fast, it will be raining soon."

Kadar looked up at the sky now as well, and when Connor made his horse walk, his walked after the Paint horse automatically again. Altaïr steered his after the two other horses and when they were in formation again, Connor made his horse trod and the others followed. They hadn't left the village yet before it started raining already.

It rained hard, and thunder was making its entrance as well. They had come pretty far, but now the road became muddy and the three assassins stepped off their horses to lead them through the mud.

It was hard to get the horses through the mud, because they bucked constantly and were just scared as hell by the thunder.

And not only the horses appeared to be out of control.

A whole herd of elks came approaching in a rapid speed through the mud. Altaïr widened his eyes at the sight and the horses began prancing.

"Altaïr!" Connor shouted his name to bring him back to reality. Altaïr looked over at Connor, who had let go of the reins and grabbed Kadar. Altaïr let go of the reins too, and then the two of them jumped aside, Connor dragging Kadar along. The elks ran by and the horses turned around and joined in to their madness.

After all the elks had ran past them, they stood up. Now not only soaked by the water, but also covered in mud.

Connor said something, and Altaïr guessed it was a curse in his mother language. He responded with a curse of his own, in Arabic. Kadar just looked at Connor, then at Altaïr, and then down at himself, not having fully taken in what had just happened.

For a moment they just stood helpless, watching after where the elks and their horses had gone. Then Kadar walked up to Connor and looked up so their eyes could meet.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Connor smiled a bit and then they returned their attention to the road again, as if they could still see the group of scared animals. _Is it just me or is Connor taking my place as Kadar's favourite master assassin…?_ Altaïr thought and immediately felt ashamed when he realized he was a bit of jealous. Well, it was his own fault, actually. He was never very nice to Kadar.

Connor sighed, turned around and then started walking. Without questions or orders, Kadar followed him and Altaïr decided he could do nothing more and walked after them.

After a while the road became better, and they could walk side by side. Kadar asked Connor about the wild animals, and Connor told him stories of a Big Foot that people had been terrified of. And then he had discovered that this 'Big Foot' had just been some man. More stories like that followed; an abnormal big wolf, a large deer, a murderous bear and whatnot. Kadar was amazed by Connor's wild stories.

Kadar asked about the wild animals living in the area they were walking through, and Connor explained in full detail where one could find which animal, how it responded to humans and how one could track every animal.

Altaïr found himself taken aback by the American man's knowledge.

Then they reached the village again. Altaïr hadn't realized they had walked this far already, but was happy to see the houses again.

They walked to the house and entered it. Immediately Achilles came walking from the living room, looking concerned.

They told him what had happened, and to Altaïr's surprise their mentor didn't get angry with them. Al Mualim would have punished them for not succeeding the mission – even when it was an easy task like this one -. But Achilles was relieved to hear that not all the supplies had vanished. He told them to wash up while he waited for the carriage.

Because there was only one tin bathtub, they had to take turns. They allowed Kadar to go first, because he was shivering all over his body. He wasn't as dirty from the mud as Altaïr and Connor were, though, for they had fallen into the mud. Kadar had merely fallen on top of them.

Altaïr and Connor waited outside the door in silence. Kadar finished quickly, as did Connor, and Altaïr felt relieved when he put on his dry pyjama pants. Sure, he could've put on his dry robes, but he was tired from walking through the mud and didn't fancy to put on his heavy robes. Plus, Kadar and Connor had done the same.

They ate dinner without any troubles – they just didn't talk, but that was okay because the assassins were totally exhausted – and went to bed right after it.


	7. Chapter 7

Altaïr sat at the wooden table in the kitchen, eating his breakfast. He was happy with their mission on one side: they finally got to assassinate a Templar. Finally a mission worthwhile, one he had crossed the North Atlantic Ocean for. Altaïr was used to having assassination missions all the time; he went out to kill someone, came back to the Masyaf castle and immediately got a new target to murder. But he felt like he had wasted his time on the ship. Months of not using his sword or hidden blade to kill some Templar – The assassins had been practising every now and then on board of the ship, though – had made him bored and restless for a good fight and kill.

On the other side he wasn't so cheerful about a boat ride again. He had lived through months of nausea on their way to the Colonies, and he didn't look forward to feeling all miserable again. _I can only hope we find this Nicholas Biddle fast…_ Altaïr thought when he swallowed the last piece of bread.

Altaïr stood up and rolled his shoulders before checking if he had equipped himself with all of his weapons.

He then turned his head to Achilles, who had been cooking with his back towards Altaïr the whole time he had been eating. Achilles had turned around now, though, and walked up to the Syrian master assassin. For a minute they just looked at each other. Altaïr was sure Achilles won't be getting any sleep at night, when he was wondering if Connor and Altaïr got into a fight again or Altaïr did something stupid in general. _Stupid? Mostly my actions save the others' lives!_

"Be good, Altaïr." Was the only thing Achilles said after a while.

Altaïr just smiled reassuringly.

"Mentor." With that he turned around and walked out of the kitchen. He turned right and opened the back door of the house. He made sure to close it silently, for Kadar was still asleep. They had decided to let him sleep because he wouldn't be attending this mission anyway, and he had been really tired of yesterday's walk.

For a moment Altaïr just stood with his back against the door and sighed. It was a beautiful day, the temperature was just nice, with a few clouds in the sky and the sun warming the earth. It was the slight, cool breeze that made the temperature so comfortable. Altaïr looked in front of him and could see the sea, and the ship that would bring him and Connor to their target. The 'Aquila'; that was the name of the ship, he had heard Connor say to Kadar. Of course Kadar had asked him about his journeys on sea yesterday as well, but Altaïr hadn't really listened.

He started walking down the path that lead to the small harbour. Before they went to bed yesterday, he had agreed with Connor to meet at the ship. Now he assumed Connor was already there, arranging things.

On his way Altaïr met quite a lot of people, but he ignored them. He just stared at them from under the darkness of his hood and saw their facial expressions change from friendly to uncomfortable or maybe even a bit scared. They all must now Connor, who never wore his hood in the village and looked friendly. The ground he was walking on was often muddy from yesterday's heavy rainfall, so Altaïr had to walk through the grass every now and then.

Altaïr came to the harbour, with the sea on his right and sailors and wooden crates and little houses on his left. There was only one ship, and people were still equipping it with the crates. Altaïr assumed it was the Aquila, and just stood studying it for a moment. It was quite a big ship, with on both sides gaps through which the heads of cannons poked. It had two large masts, but the sails weren't down yet. It was painted in a dark shade of blue and at the places where the guns stood the wood was a yellowish white. He must admit he found ships interesting to look at. It was just a pity that he felt miserable on them because of the waves.

Some yelling from on the ship took his attention and he made his way on it, trying not to get in the way of the men carrying cargo.

When he boarded the ship he saw even more cannons standing on the deck. On his right was the steering wheel of the boat, and behind it stood two people talking. Altaïr had to look twice to recognize one of them was Connor in a captain's suit. He wore a large blue hat and his robes were the same blue, instead of white.

Connor noticed Altaïr standing on the lower deck, and left the older man he was talking to.

"Well well. You are not only an assassin, recruiter, hunter and peacemaker, but now you're also the captain of this ship?" Altaïr said, cocking an eyebrow and folding his arms in front of his chest while he looked amused at Connor.

"I am not as shallow as you think." Connor said, returning the smile.

Then the man Connor had been talking to, came down as well and walked up to Altaïr.

"Captain Connor had already told me you would be attending this mission. Always nice to have a skilled fighter on board. The name's Robert Faulkner." He said, shaking Altaïr's hand.

"Altaïr." Altaïr said, not bothering to add his last name.

"Get ready, Altaïr, we will be leaving soon. Am I right, captain?"

"That's correct. It's a beautiful day, with the right wind the journey shouldn't take long."

Mr. Faulkner nodded and walked away to give some sailors orders who were dumping the cargo in the ship.

"I've known him since I joined Achilles here in Davenport." Connor said to Altaïr with a smile. "He's a bit of a nervous man, but he's very useful, for he knows a lot about ships."

They watched Mr. Faulkner walk around in stress while shouting orders.

"Where did you live before you joined Achilles?" Altaïr asked, surprised by his own interest.

"I lived in _Kanatahséton_ with my tribe, the _Kanien'kehá:ka_ people. The village got burned down and I lost my mother. We did rebuilt it, but voices told me I had to find Achilles and become an assassin."

Altaïr nodded slowly, the foreign words spoken by Connor sounded strange to him.

"I am sorry for your loss." Altaïr said softly after a while, and it was probably the most human thing he had ever said. Even Connor looked at him in surprise for a moment, before looking at the activities on the ship again.

"Thank you."

Maybe he and Connor could get along after all.

Altaïr had climbed into the ropes to take a look at their surroundings. They were sailing in between dangerous rocks with sudden changes of where the wind came from, but Connor skilfully steered the ship through them.

The ocean was so clear, Altaïr could see the sand on the bottom of the ocean. He didn't feel very nauseous, fortunately, and he looked forward to the fight. He had never fought against an enemy on a ship that was sailing. He had never attacked a ship at all, actually, so this mission was quite exciting.

They were just sailing between to large rocks, when someone spotted another boat.

The ship tried to escape, but Connor ordered to bring the ship to full sail and it immediately caught the wind and shot forward. Now both ships were on open sea, and it suddenly started to rain. The waves became a lot rougher and Altaïr felt himself feeling sick again. He cursed and jumped down from where he was.

Altaïr tried to walk as straight as possible on the ship over to Connor at the steering wheel when two more ships were spotted.

"It's a bloody Armada! I knew he was up to something!" Mr. Faulkner shouted.

"So we fight Mr. Faulkner." Connor said back, calmly but determined.

Connor brought the Aquila next to one of the enemy ships and ordered his men to fire. However, the ship fired back.

"Get down!" Connor shouted and pulled Altaïr down, because he looked too interested in the fight to have heard the order.

"Altaïr! Pay attention, damn it!"

"What would you have me do?"

Connor pointed at the wounded gunman behind them.

"Take in his place behind the gun, and fire on my mark."

The cannons had already taken one ship down, and now the other came up to the Aquila.

"Fire!" Connor shouted, and fireballs hit the enemy ship full in its flank.

"Altaïr, fire at the gunpowder stock!"

Turning the gun, Altaïr managed to blow up the last enemy ship with a single shot. He wasn't used to shooting with guns, though. Back in Masyaf, when he had just become master assassin, he had chosen to fight with more traditional weapons, like the sword and dagger. He did know how to use a gun, because he had been trained to.

"Good shot!" Connor said, his voice barely audible because of the cheering of the sailors.

Having destroyed both ships, they continued their chase after the Randolph, the ship on which Nicholas Biddle was present.

While the rain fell down from the sky like a waterfall, Connor brought the Aquila next to the Randolph. The cannons fired at the masts of the Randolph and took them down.

"She's ours, men! Prepare to board. Biddle is mine." Connor said while everyone on the ship began to arm themselves.

"To arms! To arms!" Mr. Faulkner yelled.

Altaïr left the gun and took position next to Connor. The sailors began boarding the Randolph, and they jumped aboard of Biddle's ship.

There was fire everywhere, and Altaïr helped fight the sailors while Connor went looking for Nicholas Biddle.

After all the sailors had been killed, a circle formed around Biddle and Connor.

"Your misplaced sense of justice is pathetic! You should've never set foot outside your little village." Biddle challenged Connor, and they started fighting. Biddle was a young man with a heavy body. He had black hair that reached to his shoulders and small beard.

Connor managed to knock Biddle to the ground, but there he found a gun and aimed it at Connor. He took a shot and Connor jumped away, so the bullet hit a stack of barrels with gunpowder, causing an explosion. The fire reached high in the sky, and Altaïr, who was standing with the sailors, were all blown away. When Altaïr looked up again he didn't see the two fighting men anymore, but a gap on the first deck of the ship. He worried and got up to run over to the burnt down gap. Altaïr jumped down and saw that the two had continued their fight.

Altaïr grabbed his sword, that was still blood red from the men he had just slain. He threw himself into the fight, and it was obvious Biddle would be defeated soon.

"Brought your friend eh? Well that's not really fair!" He yelled, parrying Altaïr's sword.

Connor quickly brought his tomahawk forward and hit Biddle, who gave a swing with his sword right back at him.

"Mr. Kenway will award me greatly for ridding him of you." He said with a grin, only causing Connor to fight with more vigor.

It didn't take the two master assassins long to kill him, though Altaïr left the final blow for Connor. It was his target after all, he wouldn't steal his kill.

"Your reign over the Colonial Coast has come to an end." Connor said calmly when Biddle's body hit the ground. He began explaining why he was right, like every Templar target always does when he would die within a minute. Altaïr stood with his arms folded and just listened.

"You assassins are blind to the truth." The dying man managed to get out. Altaïr let his arms fall down and took a step forward to glare at him.

"Enough." Connor said, flicking out his hidden blade.

"Wait. Let the Randolph die with me. Don't take her as a prize. Please, please. I want no quarter, just to sink with my ship." Biddle pleaded, and to Altaïr's surprise Connor put his hidden blade back and walked away from the dying body.

"Are you mad? Why don't you kill him!?" Altaïr said turning around.

"It's his final wish to die with his ship. I can do nothing but grant that wish." Connor stopped and turned half around.

"He might escape, you fool! You wanted to take his life, and here it is. You can't be serious to just leave him!?" Altaïr said angry while flicking out his own hidden blade.

"No. Not every life is mine to take, Altaïr."

Altaïr shook his head and turned around to look down at the dying Biddle.

"Altaïr. Leave it."

With an angry glare Altaïr looked over his shoulder at Connor and then got to his knees to thrust his hidden blade in Biddle's chest, right in his heart. The man gasped, and then slowly closed his eyes. Altaïr looked down at the man before he was knocked off him and hit the ground. Connor sat on him with his knee painfully on Altaïr's chest, pinning down his arms.

"Why the hell did you do that!?" Connor shouted in anger.

"I did what you couldn't. Seriously, if you aren't even capable of killing this Templar, how will you ever kill their Leader? No, even better: your dad?!"

"This man had a last wish, to die in honour with his ship. Who am I to take it away from him?"

"Coward."

"Have you no honour? What is it they're dying for, do you really even know? You don't mind who you kill. You just kill everybody. You're heartless."

"I am an assassin. What do you expect? We are cold, we can't afford to care or love, it could kill us."

"Have you no backbone? Was every assassin in Syria like that?"

Altaïr didn't know what to say, were they…?

"Captain! The ship is about to sink! I would advise you to…." Connor looked over his shoulder and Altaïr could see from his lying position that Mr. Faulkner had entered the destroyed room they were in.

"Uhm… Excuse me, sir. I didn't know you were.. busy. But it would be wise to leave now, captain." Mr. Faulkner said, his cheeks began to turn red.

Connor quickly got up. "This isn't what it looks like, Mr Faulkner." He said, giving Altaïr an angry look. "We should go. We leave the Randolph behind."

"We will? She's a mighty vessel, captain!" Mr. Faulkner asked surprised.

Connor didn't answer him, but walked straight past him to the deck of the ship. Mr. Faulkner looked dumbfounded at Altaïr, who still laid on the ground.

"What was that all about?"

Altaïr got up and wiped the dust off his robes.

"Your captain has a serious aggression problem, Mr. Faulkner." Altaïr said before walking past the older man as well, leaving a confused Faulkner behind.


	8. Chapter 8

The Aquila reached the harbour of Davenport around 11 o'clock a few days later. It had been having the wind in the back the whole journey back, almost causing it to fly.

Altaïr was happy to feel solid ground underneath his feet again. He had been feeling sick for almost the whole journey, causing him to stay in his bed in his cabin. He was happy with that, though. That way he wouldn't have to face Connor. Because, truth been told, he did feel ashamed of his actions aboard the Randolph.

It was true what Connor had said. He was in it for the fights, for the kills, for the bloodshed. He loved what he did, he loved to be an assassin. But maybe he loved it a bit too much, too much to think about the honour of his targets. As long as he came out of the fight stronger and without a scratch, right?

Connor's actions and words had left him confused every minute he was awake. Was he really so narrow-minded? Did he really lack personality? The creed told him to hide in plain sight, to disappear in the crowd. But had he disappeared too much? Enough to lack individuality? Connor had shown mercy, something he had never done in his entire life. But that was logic, right? If you become too soft, people will walk over you.

Showing mercy, caring about someone, loving someone, being friendly in any way… Life had only learned him not to do those things, because in the end he would only hurt himself. How was it possible Connor cared about the lives of the sailors, to bring them back home safely, if they could attempt mutiny? How could he care about the villagers of Davenport, to give them back their lives, if they could start to profit more than himself from what they sell? How could he care so much about Achilles, if he's an old man, who could die in every moment, leaving Connor behind with sadness and pain?

Altaïr realized he was jealous of Connor, how life had given him happiness, while he had lost faith in humans. Abbas, his parents… He had cared about them and in the end they had left him, in sadness and pain. It was the reason he had grown cold, showing no emotion because it could destroy his soul.

Now they were walking back to Achilles' house in silence. They walked side by side, with above them a dark sky.

When they came to the backdoor, Altaïr stopped. His thoughts had been eating him from the inside out and he needed to say something, anything, to Connor.

Connor had realized Altaïr didn't walked next to him anymore, so he stopped as well and turned around.

"Connor… I am so sorry." Altaïr said with a hoarse voice. When there came no answer, Altaïr dropped his head and looked at the ground. He heard Connor taking a few steps towards him.

"It's okay, Altaïr." Connor said, placing a hand on Altaïr's shoulder.

Altaïr looked up at Connor's face that he could barely see if it wasn't for the light that came from inside, and sighed.

Then they walked in.

When Altaïr woke up the next morning, the room was already being lit by the sun. He guessed it was pretty late in the morning already. _Apparently I was tired from the journey…_ Altaïr thought as he quickly put on his clothes.

He found everyone in the kitchen downstairs.

"Did you really destroy that ship!?" Kadar asked amazed the minute he saw him standing in the doorway.

Altaïr was taken aback from Kadar's sudden interest in him. Since they had moved in this house, Kadar had only been asking Connor about his stories and had grown to like him over Altaïr.

Then Altaïr nodded in affirmation.

"Connor has already told us everything. Good that the mission was a success." Achilles said with a smile. Altaïr looked confused, but took his seat at the wooden table next to Kadar and in front of Connor.

"Kadar, I think you better be going." Achilles said to Kadar. The novice quickly stood up, said goodbye and ran out of the kitchen, and not long after they heard the front door being opened and closed.

"Where's he going?" Altaïr asked.

"He's been helping around in the village the past week. Today he promised to help Myriam hunting. He was so excited."

Altaïr nodded and continued eating.

"What will we be doing today, mentor?" Connor asked.

Achilles sighed. "Well, seeing as you just had a mission, and it's pretty quiet now on the Templar's side, you may do whatever you like today. If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to take a walk." Achilles said, leaving Altaïr and Connor at the table.

"So, what are we going to do? Or what are you going to do, you don't have to feel obligated to do something with me, of course." Connor asked.

"Would you… Show me around? Maybe to your former home, the tribe?"

"Sure." Connor said with a smile.

They rode the same way they had taken on their first mission. The grey clouds of yesterday had given room to a blue sky, with here and there a few white clouds. The sun warmed up the earth and on their way they saw rabbits, beavers and raccoons enjoying the beautiful day as well.

"Why didn't you tell Achilles I disobeyed you?" Altaïr asked as they had to make way for a carriage that tried to pass on the narrow road next to the lake.

"Because you have learned from it, and I have faith it will never happen again."

The carriage had passed and they rode on. They came to the small town where they had bought supplies a week ago.

"How can you be so sure?" Altaïr asked.

"Because I trust you." Altaïr looked at his right side to see Connor looking at him. There it was, that was exactly the problem. Connor didn't know him for long, but he already trusted Altaïr would heal from his behaviour, just like Malik and Al Mualim believed in him. But they knew him, and Connor was so different from them.

In silence they rode on.

They passed yet another town, and turned right. After a few minutes they came to a large open place, with a few trees standing in a shallow lake. Once the road disappeared under the water, but the horses carried on without complaining. They took a small path to their right and riding behind each other, they let the horses go in a full gallop.

The path led uphill, and then went straight downhill again.

"That must have been quite a long journey for you as a kid." They had been riding for hours now.

"It was. Though there's a shortcut through the woods." Connor answered.

When they had come to the end of the road, there was a large wooden fence. Connor rode his horse through a gap in the fence and Altaïr followed, grabbing the reins shorter to steer his horse better.

Within the fence stood some large wooden houses and there were people in clothes that looked strange to Altaïr. Skins of animals hung in front of the houses and every now and then people sat around a campfire.

Connor had brought his horse to a stop and someone told him something. He stopped his horse next to Connor's, but couldn't understand what they said because they were speaking in a different language.

"He wanted to know if you weren't dangerous. It doesn't happen very often that a stranger comes into the village." Connor said with a smile when the man next to him had walked away.

They left their horses and walked through the camp while Connor told Altaïr about the ways of his people and their history. After a little while they returned to their horses and Altaïr pulled himself on his black gelding and Connor seated himself on his brown Paint horse again.

Before they were able to steer the horses around towards the exit, a woman - dressed as strangely as the others, in Altaïr's eyes – came running towards them. The horses lifted their heads and rolled their eyes at the rush of the woman, but the assassins managed to calm them down.

The woman talked in fear to Connor.

"What's wrong?" Altaïr asked when she was done freaking out.

"She said there will be a heavy storm, and that it will be dangerous to ride back."

"What? The sky is clear! What nonsense!"

"Altaïr, she has had a vision. If we will ride all the way back to Davenport, we will get hurt. We better find ourselves a tavern in the next town." Connor said looking at the sky.

"A vision? You believe in that? Come on Connor, it's all just superstition."

"No Altaïr, it's dangerous. I will not be risking our lives."

Altaïr sighed. "Fine." He said annoyed.

They exited the small village and rode up and down the hill again. When they came to the village they had rode through a few hours ago, the sky was already a threatening shade of grey, and the branches of the trees looked like they would break with every blow of the hard wind. Connor lead Altaïr to a large, red building. Outside it stood a long flagpole which bore the American flag; it waved in the wind.

Just as they had entered the building, outside the rain came pouring down like someone emptied a large bucket of water on the land.

Inside were a lot of people hiding from the rain as well and a small band played cheerful music. It was warm, because of the people and the fire in the fireplace. Altaïr and Connor made their way through the wooden tables at which people said drinking to the bar. Behind it stood a man with a long brown coat cleaning up a mug.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you have any free rooms?" Connor tried to make himself audible over the talking of the already drunk people and the music.

"Only one, I'm afraid. It does have a king size bed." The man said.

"No way. We will look somewhere else." Altaïr said to Connor.

"I would take it, if I were you. Just step one foot outside the door and you will be flooded away. It's too dangerous to be outside now."

"When will this bad weather stop?" Altaïr asked the man.

"I heard from some travellers that the sun would break through the clouds tomorrow morning."

"We will take the room, thank you." Connor said giving the man enough money. "Come one Altaïr, we've got no other option."

Altaïr sighed.

"Another round here!"

The wife of the owner of the inn came carrying two large mugs of beer over to the table at which Connor and Altaïr sat. They weren't drunk, but they had had enough alcohol to not care anymore.

They downed the whole mug in one time.

"So there I stood, in front of at least thirty men and, I shit you not, I took them all down with one swing of my sword each." Altaïr said when he had finished his beer.

"No way! Really?" Connor said in full amazement. He must be the drunkest of the two; _his alcohol tolerance is very low._ Altaïr thought.

"Would I lie? They weren't even able to touch me, too."

They laughed, and the woman came with two more mugs of beer. The assassins emptied them in less than 5 minutes.

They stared at their empty mugs for some time, when Connor spoke up.

"Do you have a family, Altaïr?"

"Nah. Don't need some woman bothering me and complaining all the time. How 'bout you?"

"Me neither. I've never been interested in women. They're only a burden to someone like us."

"That's true!" Altaïr laughed and patted Connor on his shoulder.

"Got the party going here? Or do we need some more beer!" Three random men joined at their table, bringing five mugs of beer.

"Beer!" Connor yelled and they laughed and drank together, playing cards. _Who would've thought cards games were fun?_ Altaïr thought.

It was long past midnight when Connor and Altaïr finally reached their room. It had been quite an adventure to get up the stairs, because Connor had been walking in front, occasionally falling a few steps back again and then laughing hard as if he had just been told the funniest joke in the world. Altaïr wasn't as drunk as Connor, but tipsy enough to laugh just as hard along with him.

"Ladies first." Altaïr said when he had opened their room with the key.

"Why thank you." Connor joked back and walked in. Altaïr stepped in behind him and had barely closed the door before he was being pushed against it by a body.

"Connor damn it, turn on the light." Altaïr tried to push Connor off him, but found his arm muscles had put their power off.

"I'm tired." Connor stated bluntly, hanging on Altaïr with his full weight.

Altaïr could smell Connor's breath full of alcohol from where he stood.

"Then get off me and go to bed."

Connor stood up a bit and positioned himself to a more standing pose, in front of Altaïr. He placed his hands next to Altaïr's head, against the door to keep himself up.

"Do you hate me?"

"I hate everyone, Connor. Now get out of my face."

Connor was silent for a moment.

"We don't seem to get along very well, eh?"

Altaïr didn't know what to say and just shrugged.

"Do you have any friends at all? People you care about?"

"I do not need anybody. But I do have a good friend, back in Masyaf."

"Everybody needs somebody, Altaïr." Connor said. He began to lose his balance, or so Altaïr thought, until he felt Connor's warm lips on his.

Altaïr's eyes widened in surprise at the strange feeling. A feeling he hadn't had in a long time, and by that time it had been a woman's lips. Connor's felt so strange it left Altaïr nailed to the floor.

It didn't last long, though, and soon Connor dropped his head and let it rest on Altaïr's shoulder. He still used his hands on the door to keep himself up.

"C- Connor, you're drunk. Go to bed now." Altaïr finally managed to get out.

Connor groaned, and to make the scene even more awkward for Altaïr, he had to help the American assassin to the bed.

When they both finally laid down, Connor had already drifted off to sleep.

Altaïr lied awake, listening to the pouring rain that came down on the roof and against the window.

 _What the hell had that been?_ Altaïr thought as he rubbed his tired face with his hand. _He's just been wasted. I doubt if he'll remember anything this morning._ He turned with his back to Connor in the king size bed, feeling weirdly sad at his last thought before he too fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Altaïr groaned as he lifted yet another heavy log onto an old wooden carriage. He was helping these people, – He didn't remember their names - but they were only cracking jokes and it annoyed him that they weren't being serious and silent. He had a slight headache because of the excessive drinking yesterday night, and their loud voices didn't stop the pain at all.

Altaïr and Connor had left the tavern where they had slept around lunch time. Connor had a hangover and while riding back, he had to close his eyes because the sunlight blinded him, causing a painful headache. When they had reached Achilles' house, Connor had gone straight to bed again. Achilles had told Altaïr to just help around in the village until Connor felt well again.

The whole ride back they hadn't talked because they both had a headache, Connor's worse than Altaïr's. As Altaïr had predicted, the American assassin didn't remember what he did last night so he guessed the kiss had just been a drunk action without meaning. But why did he feel so turned down?

"Hey, quit dreaming boy, those logs aren't going to climb on the cart themselves!" Altaïr didn't realise he had been staring at nothing and immediately glared at the two men who laughed.

"I'm sick and tired of you two. You're just standing there, laughing, while I'm doing the job. Go to hell." He said coldly, causing the smiles on the men's faces to vanish in a second, to be replaced by surprise and a bit of fear. Altaïr smirked at their reaction while he walked away, in the direction of the home.

He stopped on the bridge and watched over the water that was flowing to the sea. He started to control his breathing. _Never have I felt the desire to punch someone in the face as much as I had there…_ He closed his eyes as his breathing was slowly steadying and let out a long sigh.

"You're back!"

Immediately Altaïr's short state of calmness was broken by a loud voice. He opened his eyes and glared at Kadar who stood next to him, with a bright smile splitting his face in two.

"I was worried about you! I thought you had died in the storm, but of course you can't two master assassins can handle a storm right? But I'm so happy to see you! You know what I did today? I picked flowers! Really, I did! Want to know a little secret? Norris is in love with Myriam! But he didn't know what girls like, so I had to ask Prudence. She said she liked flowers so I went to get the prettiest. Norris will give them to her, cute right? I hope she likes them but I'm sure she will because…"

"Kadar. Shut. Up."

Kadar's eyes went to the ground and he mumbled some apology. Altaïr sighed.

"I'm so done here. Back in Masyaf, everything was better."

Kadar looked up.

"In Syria there was always this tense, depressed ambiance… But not here, people are kind and not stressed. I like it here."

Altaïr rolled his eyes. _The words of a child._

There was a silence in which both looked at the river, one of them with feelings of never stepping aboard the ship that crosses the waters again, the other with melancholy.

"… Shall we go back? I'm hungry."

Altaïr nodded and they walked back to Achilles' house.

"I don't know. It happens more often and I just let him. He knows what he does so we'll just see when he gets back. He might as well have found tracks of a possible next target and he couldn't wait for you to get up. Stop complaining and make yourself useful in the meanwhile." Achilles said calmly while supporting himself on his stick as he stood in the kitchen watching Altaïr.

Connor had gone without leaving a note when the other assassins had been asleep. Altaïr hated him for leaving him in this dead village of peasants.

"How long does he usually take?"

"I can't say. I don't know what he discovered. He might just be visiting some recruits in the cities, but maybe he has found a target and… Well, then it might take a bit longer for him to get back. Now stop complaining and see if you can help around."

With that Achilles turned around and slowly walked away. Altaïr let out a frustrated sigh.

"Helping the villagers isn't so bad at all, Altaïr. It feels good when they are pleased with what you do for them." Kadar sat next to him and tried to cheer the grumpy assassin up.

"Kadar, I didn't come here to aid some farmers. This is a waste of my time and my skills. I am a master assassin for God's sake."

Kadar was silent for a minute, looking at his hands on the table.

"Can't you just… try?"

Altaïr glared at the younger assassin who quickly stood up and left the kitchen. The Syrian master assassin sighed again. _That fool better be back soon…_

Day after day Altaïr had woken up, ate his breakfast, and went out in the village with Kadar to see who needed their help. When he had Kadar with him, he didn't think too much and thus didn't create any problems that weren't there in the first place. Kadar talked a lot to him, so he could remain silent – how he liked it -.

At first he refused to do the villagers' dirty job, but Kadar somehow always talked him to doing it anyway. His cheerfulness made the master assassin less depressed, because the novice made him laugh from time to time, either with words or some dumb action.

Altaïr realized how much Kadar had grown since they had arrived in the Colonies. He wasn't too shy anymore to talk to people and wasn't as fragile anymore. Altaïr had to admit he was kind of proud of his novice when they battled each other – just for fun – and Kadar was able to surprise him.

But when he had to do jobs for the villagers on his own, he began overthinking things and that made him hate his current life again. He couldn't stop watching the roads to see if Connor was passing by. It annoyed him that the American assassin hadn't taken him with him, because he probably knew best how Altaïr hated not doing what he was good in. Killing.

When he was alone, like right now, his thoughts haunted him. Normally he liked being on his own, but now his mind freaked him out. Not a day passed that he didn't thought back about what happened in Connor and his room at the tavern that night they had to hide from the storm. So many questions filled his head, but in the end he always concluded Connor had been wasted and didn't knew what he did, so he didn't remember it at all. Strangely, that thought made him feel depressed and sad. He wasn't some toy Connor could heartlessly play around with; he too, yes even him, had feelings.

But why did this bother him so much…?

He was relieved when a voice woke him from his thoughts.

"Master Altaïr! Ellen's house is being attacked and Kadar has gone alone to protect her from the attackers!" It was the old, dark farmer, Warren, Altaïr remembered. "The other men of the village are heading to her house as well…" Warren wanted to say more, but the Syrian assassin wasn't listening anymore.

Altaïr ran in the direction of Ellen's house with, since a long time, a worried look on his face.

He remembered Malik asking him to look after his brother, and of course he would do that for his best friend, but there was another feeling deep in his stomach. Over the past weeks he had come to care about the younger assassin, and he had improved on his fighting skills, but Altaïr was worried that this was too much for Kadar.

When Altaïr reached Ellen's house, Kadar stood with his back against the wall. At least five men surrounded him, blowing hit after hit with their fists and the only thing Kadar could do is protect himself with his arms.

The other male villagers of which Warren had spoken, hadn't arrived yet. Altaïr threw one of his throwing knives at the attacker he could hit best. The moment it hit his back, he slowly sank to his knees, making the other attackers turn around.

Altaïr drew his sword. "Want some of that as well?" He challenged them.

One of the men quickly grabbed Kadar and put a hunting knife against his throat. The young assassin gasped and stood in fear with wide eyes.

"Put your sword away, and I will not harm this boy. I'm only here to pay a visit to my wife…"

Altaïr smirked. "Not happening you scum."

He ran forward and the three remaining men came towards him. The fourth still stood holding his knife against Kadar's throat.

The men drew their hunting knives, but were no match for Altaïr, who was used to wielding a sword. He slayed them easily and felt so alive again. Finally after weeks, he was fighting again and could actually kill these people…

When the last man laid dead at his feet, he turned around with a triumphant smile, opening his mouth to challenge the last of the men.

But to his horror, he turned around just in time to see the man cut Kadar's throat.

Altaïr's eyes widened in shock when he saw the lifeless body of the boy fall to the ground. He watched him for quite a while, not being able to believe what he just had seen.

"You take away my mates, I take your boy. Only fair, right?" The man kicked Kadar's body, so he laid on his back.

Filled with hate, sorrow, pain and many more emotions he couldn't name, Altaïr ran forward at an inhuman speed and thrust his hidden through the man's stomach.

Breathing heavily, he watched the man sink down to his knees, and before he could fall over himself, Altaïr kicked him to the ground. He kicked him again and again and cried loudly.

The villagers were finally there, and a female, the hunter, suddenly stood before him and dragged him away from the bodies he had made. Altaïr shook in anger and pain.

"Altaïr, breathe. Just breath." The woman sat him down on the grass and rubbed his back. The other villagers watched the massacre Altaïr had made and then slowly began removing the bodies.

Altaïr calmed down a bit, and stood up to walk over to Kadar's body. From a little distance he watched the boy lie peacefully, apart from the red cut on his neck. Blood slowly dripped on the floor.

"… Shall I take him away, mater?" One of the villagers asked him.

"No. I want to do it." Altaïr answered, his voice broken.

He kneeled down next to the body and looked at Kadar's face. But it wasn't the young novice anymore that laid there. It was some doll, a hollow puppet. The glassy eyes of the corpse stared at the sky and Altaïr laid his hand on the chest of the one he had once called Kadar, to check if this all was real.

 _This cannot be._

He removed his hand and let his head hang. A few minutes Altaïr remained like this, sorting his thoughts.

Then he looked up at Kadar's face again. _My deepest apologies, Malik, my friend, for I have failed you._ Altaïr thought as he closed Kadar's eyes.

Gently, Altaïr picked the small body up from the ground. He slowly walked towards the village's church, where the old man in black took care of the body, to make it ready for the funeral.

The rest of the day, Altaïr aimlessly walked around through the woods, avoiding the people. He silently prayed to anyone who was willing to hear his prayers. He had no God – He took away lives, no God would show him mercy when he stood before the gates of Heaven and hell – but he wanted to be sure Kadar's soul was being spared from burning in hell. The novice was so different from any other assassin, he seemed innocent, kind, and honest. He always saw the good in people, even when that seemed impossible…

If someone deserved a place in Heaven, it was him.

It was long after dinner when Altaïr returned in the dark to Achilles' house. The old man stood in the hallway, and gave a sympathetic nod when Altaïr entered the house. The Syrian assassin sighed and began climbing the stairs. Achilles just let him be.

Altaïr slept the whole night with his back towards the room, so he wouldn't need to be faced with the fact that the other bed in the room was empty.


	10. Chapter 10

_"Put your sword away, and I will not harm this boy. I'm only here to pay a visit to my wife..."_

 _Umar smirked. "Not happening you scum."_

 _He ran forward and three men came towards him. The fourth stood holding his knife against Altaïr's throat._

 _The men drew their hunting knives, but were no match for Umar, who was used to wielding a sword. He slayed them easily and kept looking at his son from the corner of his eye._

 _When the last man laid dead at his feet, he turned around with a triumphant smile, opening his mouth to challenge the last of the men._

 _But he turned around just in time to see the man cut Altaïr's throat._

 _Altaïr's eyes widened in shock when his lifeless body fell to the ground._

 _Everything faded in front of his eyes._

 _His dad… had failed him…? But he trusted him… He didn't want his life to be over now…!_

Breathing heavily and drowning in his own sweat, Altaïr sat up in his bed. His eyes nervously darted around the room, only to end at the empty bed.

 _Kadar…_

He tried to calm himself and rubbed his hands over his face.

 _Had Kadar felt like that as well? Trusting Altaïr would rescue him, but… He had failed…?_

Altaïr shivered and felt tears burning behind his eyes.

Tears.

Something he thought he didn't have anymore. But over the last days it had become clear to him that he wasn't as emotionless as he thought.

It was impossible, how he had so unconsciously grown attached to the younger assassin. Altaïr had realized that the boy had always been there for him, and how often Altaïr had told him to shut up or leave him alone. He felt so guilty… It was his fault. He had been, yet again, too arrogant to think before he acted. And now, the price was high…

Altaïr pulled the bed sheets to his face and allowed the tears to leave his eyes.

Silently, he cried.

Without a word he helped carrying the food in the inn of Oliver and his wife Corrine.

"Just a few more barrels of beer. Be very careful with those, Altaïr!" The innkeeper laughed at the Syrian assassin as he carried one of the barrels already in the direction of the tavern. Altaïr walked back to the cart where the barrels laid on and barely paid attention to the smaller man.

Altaïr had been living like a ghost lately. He felt sad, depressed and hollow.

He didn't know why the death of the younger assassin moved him so much. Every inhabitant of Davenport had been present at the funeral of Kadar, and he was surprised how sad the people had been. He realized Kadar had also meant a lot to them and that made him feel even more bad about himself, for he was the cause of Kadar's death.

Altaïr barely looked up from his thoughts when a horse rode by. But when the rider brought the animal to a halt, Altaïr could bring himself to it to lift his head high enough to acknowledge the rider.

What he saw, made him feel like all his sad and depressed feelings sank to his legs and into the ground, to be replaced by white hot fury.

On the back of the black horse in front of him, was Connor.

"I knew I could find you here." Connor smiled, but Altaïr didn't notice.

First he stood nailed to the ground, then he marched over to the horse, and pulled Connor down from it in one movement.

The American assassin looked shocked and couldn't bring out a word as his back hit the ground.

"You… You…" Altaïr shook in anger and didn't seem to be able to finish his sentence.

Instead he jumped on Connor and began to beat the hell out of him. But Connor didn't let him walk over him like that, and the two ended up fighting on the ground.

Sometimes Altaïr had the upper hand, but mostly Connor had. Both tried to get on top of the other, Connor to try to calm Altaïr down, and Altaïr to ram his fists at Connor's face.

When Altaïr was finally able to pin the other down, he suddenly was roughly dragged away by strong arms. He tried to struggle, but they held him tightly.

He glared at the ones who had interrupted him, and noticed it were some of the villagers. He looked around him, and saw that more inhabitants of Davenport had gathered around the fight.

The small doctor made his way through the crowd of dumbfounded people and went to the place where Connor sat on the ground. But the American assassin, who looked pretty beat-up, pushed the man with his glasses aside and shouted angrily at Altaïr.

"What the hell was that for!? Have you lost your mind?"

Altaïr stopped breathing for a few seconds.

The villagers could see how his face turned from anger to confused.

 _…What had that been?_

The men let go off the Syrian assassin, noticing his muscles had relaxed.

Slowly, they all began to walk away. Show was over.

Altaïr looked at his hands. _Why… did I do that?_

He looked up and carefully walked over to Connor, who was getting up. Altaïr placed a hand on his shoulder.

"… Connor… I'm-"

"Get away from me, you freak!" Connor jumped away from his touch, glared at him and then walked away, leaving Altaïr alone in the middle of the road.

Altaïr hadn't gone downstairs for dinner. He had been sitting on his bed the rest of the day, hugging himself and thinking back about the good times in Masyaf.

 _Since when have I grown so soft?_ He thought in frustration. _Where has the tough Altaïr gone?_

He got up from the bed and walked over to the window. From the dark room he stared into the night and suddenly felt very claustrophobic. He opened the window and swiftly climbed outside and onto the roof.

He sat himself down, sighed and watched the almost full moon.

 _I think it might be best to go back to Masyaf now. There's nothing here for me anymore. I screwed up… Back home, Al Mualim will have all reasons to punish me, for I have not been responsible._ Altaïr sighed and rubbed his hands over his tired face. _But if the Syrian assassins will hear about what I've done, I'll lose all my respect. No one wants to have anything to do with a traitor like me, a… freak like me. They will cast me out. And Malik… He will be devastated by the news his dear brother died…. Because of me…_ Altaïr took his hands away from his face. _I'm better off dead._

"Altaïr…?"

Altaïr didn't turn around. He knew who that voice belonged to, and that person was the last one he wanted to talk to right now.

"Altaïr, I have to apologize. I did not know about… Kadar. When I came back I directly went out to find you."

Connor stood behind Altaïr on the roof, keeping a comfortable distance. Altaïr kept watching the moon as he felt tears behind his eyes. _Not now… Why am I so weak?_

"I'm sorry for your loss. Kadar was an amazing young assassin with a heart of gold… I'll miss him." Connor added.

Silence.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon… I really shouldn't have yelled at you."

"You didn't know." Altaïr mumbled and shrugged.

Connor sighed and took a few steps in the direction of where Altaïr sat with his back facing him, watching the skies.

"Altaïr, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Now go away." Altaïr replied coldly.

"No, you're blaming yourself for Kadar's death."

Altaïr closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from leaving his eyes, but it was in vain. He quickly hid his face with both his hands.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Connor seating himself next to him.

"Hey… It's not your fault okay? Fate had decided to take Kadar away from this world at that moment. You didn't know it would happen, and you can't blame yourself." Connor said softly and rubbed Altaïr's back.

Altaïr tensed under the touch and didn't dare to look up.

"Stop thinking you failed him. I heard how close you two had gotten over the past weeks… You were his role model, his hero. And you came to rescue him. He's grateful for that, I'm sure. All he wanted, was your recognition. You gave him that by showing you cared enough about him to try to save him."

Confused, Altaïr looked up from his hands. He slowly shook his head, not being able to find words to argue with Connor about what he just said.

"I'm sure, Altaïr. You were his leader." Connor nodded.

Altaïr had never thought about it that way. He turned his head to look at the moon again, and tried to take in what Connor had told him.

They sat like that for quite some time, before Altaïr broke the silence.

"So… What did you do while you were gone?"

Connor was visibly happy Altaïr moved on from the heavy subject; he let his shoulders hang and sighed. He removed his hand from the Syrian assassin's back and shifted slightly so he sat more comfortable.

"Another Templar has fallen."

Altaïr looked at him surprised.

"You went Templar hunting and didn't mind to take me with you?"

"… Look, Altaïr. It was complicated… Believe me, it was better this way."

"Why?"

Connor was silent for quite a while. Altaïr was really clueless as to what he was hiding. He watched Connor's face, which still had some bruises and a small wound on his lips. Thoughts he couldn't place filled his mind as he watched the wound on Connor's lip. But before Altaïr was able to put a finger on what he was thinking, the other finally spoke up.

"Some time ago, I met my father. It appeared we had the same enemy, Benjamin Church, so it was beneficial for both parties to work together."

"… You worked together with a Templar to kill a Templar? Where is the logic to that!?" Altaïr was surprised. Connor shrugged.

Altaïr shook his head, but was too tired to yell or insult Connor for being so reckless. Instead he returned his gaze to the night skies and sighed. Connor followed his stare and for the first time since they met, the silence between them was comfortable.

Together they looked at the stars, both with different thoughts going through their head.

After a while Altaïr stood up and made his way to the edge of the roof.

"Night Connor." He said before hanging from the roof and climbing his way to the window again.

"Sleep well, Altaïr…"


	11. Chapter 11

With the second of the four targets down, Altaïr was halfway his mission in the Colonies.

He sat at the breakfast table with Achilles and Connor and they ate in silence. Kadar's death was now a few weeks ago, and since meeting Connor on the roof of the house something had broken. In a good way, though. The past days the two master assassins had done missions in Boston, New York and the Frontier together and slowly they were getting used to each other.

Altaïr didn't feel that tense atmosphere anymore, and he could tell Connor felt more at his ease than before as well. The American assassin had learned him the skills of a hunter, and they had gone hunting together frequently.

Altaïr sat with his elbows on the table, head resting in his hands as he watched the bread on his plate. His mind had wandered off to the first time Connor had shown him how to hunt.

"Altaïr! Get over here!" Connor whispered while said man was a few feet away from him. Altaïr did hear him though, and left his hiding spot. They had just escaped from some red coats and they needed to stay low.

Crouching, he silently walked over to where he had heard Connor's voice come from. He found him sitting on his knees with his back towards Altaïr.

When Altaïr had walked up to him, he said: "This. You see this?"

Altaïr nodded.

"What animal could have left such a trace?"

Altaïr sighed. "Pfffft I don't know… You're the hunter here." He said and rolled his eyes.

"No Altaïr, come on. Think." Connor said determined.

Sighing again, Altaïr took a closer look to the object Connor was talking about. It was tree trunk, which had clear bite marks on it.

"… Beaver?"

"Yes, exactly!" Connor turned his head to look at Altaïr and smiled at him. The Syrian assassin found himself smiling back a little.

"It should be near… Let's see if we can find it." Connor whispered and looked around. They separated and Altaïr crouched through the high grass and bushes, like he had seen Connor do once. Going as slow and silent as possible, Altaïr held an eye out for beavers.

After a little while he found one at a small creek. A smile formed on Altaïr's lips as he flicked out his hidden blade. Knowing these fat squirrel-like animals were too slow to outrun him, he jumped out of the bushes. As he had expected, the beaver tried to run away, and after chasing it a few steps Altaïr put the animal to rest.

Behind him he heard the rustling of bushes and Connor stepped out. He walked up beside the other master assassin and went down on his knees. After murmuring something, he thrust his blade in the animal and took off his skin. Altaïr watched the process in silence. After Connor was done, he stood up and patted the other's shoulder.

"Well done Altaïr, I knew you're a quick learner. You'll be a fine hunter."

There was a short moment of silence between the two, in which Connor looked at Altaïr as if he was his father and proud of his son. Slowly Altaïr smiled at him, he forgot how it felt like to get a compliment.

Connor let his hand slide off Altaïr shoulder, and accidently his hand brushed softly against the Syrian assassin's. It wasn't even for a second, but it was enough to make Altaïr's heart skip a beat and he froze.

 _Skip a beat? But why…_ Altaïr thought in panic as Connor quickly looked away.

"… The redcoats should be gone now. I think we can set off for the Homestead." Connor said, walking away.

Altaïr watched him go, and felt the same weird feeling in his stomach he felt weeks ago, when Connor had kissed him. _Is he just playing with me…?_

Altaïr looked up from his plate and watched Achilles and Connor nervously. Both were busy eating and didn't have seemed to notice his mind had wandered off… Also not what was going on down in his pants.. Altaïr shifted a bit and sat closer to the table, hoping to hide his awkward boner better. _Where did that come from…_

It was late at night and the two master assassins were still up. Altaïr and Connor lazily sat on the sofa while Achilles was in his bed. The old man had slowly been growing old, too old for this life. Connor was scared. He didn't say it, but Altaïr could sense it. Connor would check on him every now and then and looked worried and stressed.

"I don't understand it, it's all gone so fast…" Connor said, desperate look on his face.

Altaïr was silent for a bit. All he knew about losing loved ones, he had buried deep inside of his heart. Though with the death of Kadar, he had broken.

"He's always been there, he can't leave this life. What is supposed to become of the Creed?" He continued, now looking at Altaïr.

"For God's sake, Connor, he's not dead yet! Maybe he'll live."

"You know just as well as me that the chance he'll live is too small."

"But then again, you wouldn't be alone. I'm here."

"Yeah but you have to go back after the last Templar here falls. Orders of your mentor." Even his voice sounded desperate now.

Altaïr sighed and closed his eyes to calm down.

"You are afraid to be alone."

Connor froze and looked at the ground. Altaïr sat up and looked at him.

"Tell me."

Softly and slowly, Connor started talking.

"I've never seen my dad in my entire life since I became an assassin. The others would accept me, but they knew I was different. You can see I have an English father and a native mother. My mother… She was the only one I could find comfort in. Then one day, my dad's men burned my village down while I was out. When I came back I desperately searched for my mother. I found her in a burning, collapsing home. She told me to get out and save myself… I could do nothing but leave my mother and had to watch her burn alive. The others were kind to me, but I always felt lonely afterwards.. After all those years, Achilles was the first one to actually let me in again and looking after me. It hurts and worries me to see him in pain and I feel more useless than ever." Connor rubbed his hands over his tired face and sighed.

Altaïr had patiently listened to the other and felt sorry for him. He had always been unkind to Connor, while all he wanted, deep in his heart, was to be accepted.

Since the death of Kadar he began starting to let Connor in slowly, hesitatingly letting the solid wall he had built around himself down. This gave them the opportunity to get to know each other better, and Altaïr had to admit that Connor wasn't as bad as he thought.

And now he realized…

"You know… I lost my mother at a young age, and my father only a couple of years later. He was betrayed by one of our own men, an assassin. Since then I was Altaïr ibn-la'Ahad. 'Son of none'. Our creed's mentor, Al Mualim, took me in and continued my training. But whether he has ever loved me… I don't know."

Connor looked up and their eyes met. Altaïr could read in them what he was thinking himself too.

 _'We're the same.'_

In silence they looked at each other, feeling connected even though their lives had started thousands of miles apart. But here they were, two master assassins of the creed.

Two brothers.

As they were staring at each other, Altaïr took a moment to take in the other's face. Connor's normally serious and expressionless face now looked soft and unconsciously he reached his hand out to Connor's face. He cupped it and softly stroked his cheek, wanting to feel it. The feeling of his rough finger stroking Connor's soft skin seemed to comfort them both and Connor closed his eyes.

Altaïr looked at his peaceful face and found it hard to think straight. He was acting on his instincts, like always, but he wasn't an assassin right now.

He was human.

Slowly, he leaned forward and felt the pace of his heart quicken. Just when his face was only inches away from Connor's, he felt confused and heard his mind tell him to stop acting like a fool.

But he was too far gone now.

Altaïr softly brushed his lips over the American assassin's and he felt Connor's warm breath on his lips. Then he felt Connor slowly starting to kiss him, and he closed his eyes too.

Still stroking his cheek softly, he felt Connor searching for his hand and eventually held it gently. Altaïr smiled on his lips and deepened the kiss a little..

"Connor…? Connor!" Altaïr froze when he heard the low, broken voice of Achilles from up in his room.

He quickly pulled back and looked at Connor with wide eyes. He looked back, totally confused.

"Connor? Are you there?" Achilles asked again, his voice loud as he could.

But Connor sat frozen, just like Altaïr. He seemed to watch everything he could see on Altaïr's face, trying to read him. Why had he done that?

"Connor! Come please!" Achilles voice was almost gone now, and finally Connor seemed to wake up. He stood up slowly and quickly walked out of the room. Altaïr kept staring at the place he had sat only seconds ago.

Altaïr was finally able to think again, but he panicked. He jumped off and went to his room before he had to face Connor again.

Altaïr had barely slept last night. He felt so confused… How could a man like him just lean in and kiss a man like Connor? A man!? But when he closed his eyes he could feel the feeling of Connor's lips on his again and he couldn't deny how good that felt.

He wanted more…

But no. He was a man, he couldn't be thinking about another man like this. It was so wrong, what had he done to himself?

And then there was another problem. What did Connor think about him now? Will he ever see him as an equal assassin again? Or would he look at him in disgust? Or… Was it possible that he felt the same weird feeling Altaïr felt in his stomach?

He let his hand slip under the covers into his pants, and committed a sin. But he couldn't help it and it made him feel very satisfied.

Altaïr got up, washed and dressed himself and walked over to Achilles room to check on him.

The moment he saw Achilles, he forgot all his worries and walked up to the bed.

"Master?" Altaïr worriedly looked at Achilles extremely pale face and shook him gently when he wasn't getting a response.

"Achilles, wake up!" Altaïr tried again.

Finally Achilles opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Altaïr let out a sigh of relief.

"You thought I'd give up that fast?" Achilles managed to get out and laughed softly.

Altaïr shook his head. "Of course not, forgive me master."

Achilles slowly looked over at Altaïr.

"But you are right… It won't take long anymore now."

Altaïr nodded understandingly.

"I have sent Connor out yesterday evening, I think he'll be back in a day or two."

"Where to?" Altaïr asked immediately, causing Achilles to look at him in surprise.

"Since when do you care so much about him? If you really want to know, I just sent him out to get something for me. Nothing dangerous." Achilles cocked an eyebrow.

Altaïr nodded again and looked away.

"I'll leave you now then, so you can sleep for a bit. Just call me if you need me." He said, walking away.

"I will Altaïr."


	12. Chapter 12

Achilles had passed away.

Peacefully, while he was sleeping. He hadn't felt any pain.

As was his last wish, Altaïr had buried him on the hill, next to his parents. All the people from the village had been there, like at Kadar's funeral. Everyone, except Connor.

He was still out, God knows where.

But before passing away, Achilles had told Altaïr he was worried about him. He didn't tell Altaïr what the American assassin was up to, though.

So here Altaïr was, riding through the large forest, trying to find the other master assassin.

He patted the blonde horse on its neck as he let it slow down. He noticed how tired it was because the horse immediately let its head hang down. Altaïr had been riding around for days, trying to find trails or rumors on where Connor could be.

But he found nothing.

Altaïr sighed and combed the horses' mane with his fingers. He returned to the Homestead and figured he might as well help the townspeople while he waited for Connor to come back.

 _Help the townspeople? What is wrong with me, I used to hate that…_ Altaïr thought absentmindedly while he made his way back through the threes.

At first the people were confused about Altaïr wanting to help them, they were suspicious. He could hear them talk behind his back.

"Do you think something's wrong with him?"

"Is he cursed? Possesed? This is not the Altaïr we know..."

"Should we worry?"

"Oh, I'd feel much safer once Connor is around again."

"Yes, I don't trust him at all. I swear, one night he'll go around the village, slaughtering us all. Mark my words!"

"Oh dear Lord, do you think he would do that?"

But before the other voice could answer, someone else joined into the conversation. "I think not. I think this man is just trying to be kind. I even think he's trying to better his life…"

Altaïr didn't need to turn around to know whose voice that was. It was Warren's. A small smile appeared on his face. _Warren is defending me? He thinks I can change…?_ Altaïr could feel their eyes burning in his back, but he felt a little more hopeful.

He did some more tasks for the townspeople and he noticed they slowly started to appreciate what he was doing, instead of giving him distrusting looks.

Content with what he had achieved today – a bit more trust of the townspeople – he went home. He had dinner all by himself and spent the night reading in the living room.

Just as he had decided it was time to go to bed and he had closed the book, he heard the front door opening and closing. He looked into the direction the sound had come from and immediately his heart started to beat faster. Connor was finally back! Then he looked at his hands. _Wow Altaïr, calm down! What are you doing? You're acting like a little girl!_ He thought to himself, annoyed.

Altaïr looked up when Connor walked by and Connor looked back.

"Altaïr." Connor said quietly, he seemed distracted.

"Good evening Connor." Altaïr responded and watched him walk into the living room and sitting down on the sofa next to Altaïr. He felt that something had happened and thought it was best to let Connor start talking, if he wanted to, instead of him asking where he had been as if he was Connor's mother.

After a silence and Connor staring at the floor, he spoke: "I met my father."

Altaïr's eyes went wide. _The Templar!_

Connor looked at him. "By the look on your face I can see you're worried. But nothing happened. He's alive, I'm alive."

Now Altaïr looked confused.

After a short silence, Connor admitted: "We worked together…"

But before Connor could finish his sentence, Altaïr blurted out: "With a Templar?! You worked together with a Templar?"

"Yes yes, but only because this mission benefits us both! I have no intention to join him and I told him that very clearly." Connor immediately defended himself, then looked down at the floor again. Altaïr watched him in silence, not knowing what to say.

Working together with a Templar? Connor must have been desperate. What could have driven him so far to start working with the assassins' greatest enemy, the Templars? You can't trust a Templar… His father had probably done it for his own good. He's a Templar after all and they are all like that. What if Connor helped them to important information? What if they used him?

"It was nice to work with my father…" Connor interrupted Altaïr's thoughts. "It was as it should be, you know? Family…" He looked at Altaïr.

Altaïr laid his hand on Connor's back. "I understand it was probably a great experience for you Connor, but you shouldn't have done that. He's a Templar, he's our enemy! You can't trust him, even though he's your father."

Connor looked disappointed and Altaïr rubbed his back gently.

"I understand why you think that… But I swear I didn't give him any information. It was this mission and nothing more. You've got to believe me Altaïr…" Connor looked into Altaïr's eyes.

Altaïr stared back, lost himself in Connor's brown eyes for a moment and then responded: "Alright then…"

Connor smiled a little, then looked serious. "I'm going to check on Achilles."

He stood up and was already in the doorway when Altaïr got up and quickly said: "No, Connor…"

Connor froze and slowly turned around, tears forming in his eyes. "Is he…"

Altaïr nodded and looked at the other man sympathetically.

"He… Can't… When?" Connor managed to get out. His shoulders were hanging and he was shaking.

"A few days after you left… He is buried behind the house."

Connor closed his eyes.

"But he passed away quickly, he felt no pain." Altaïr hoped that would make the other assassin feel slightly better.

But it didn't.

Connor was standing there, in the doorway. Tears slowly rolling down his cheeks, barely noticeable. His arms were hanging uselessly next to his body. He looked so… Defeated. Altaïr wanted to say something, he wanted to comfort him but he had no idea how. His mouth was open, trying to find words but they didn't come to him. Instead, he walked over to where Connor was standing and held him in his arms. Connor hugged him back and cried silently on his shoulder.

"Why does He have to take them all from me?" Connor whispered.

"Shhh… It's alright Connor. They are all in a better place now." Altaïr rubbed the other man's back. "Besides, you'll see them again when your time comes."

Connor buried his face against Altaïr shoulder and Altaïr held his head and stroked his hair.

"But it is not your time yet, we've still got a lot to do." He pulled Connor gently from his shoulder and looked at his crying face. Connor didn't dare to meet his eyes.

"You're not alone Connor." Altaïr said softly, which made Connor look at him. "I'm here for you. Don't worry."

Connor hugged him tightly and he smiled a little when Altaïr hugged back.

Had he expected this when he first met Connor? He had seen the other as a rival, he had always been mean to him and tried to show he was the best. But the feeling he got from that arrogant behavior didn't satisfy him anymore. It was this feeling, this feeling of trust and friendship that made him feel alive.

They stood in the doorway for a long time, in each other's arms before they decided it was time to go to bed. They went upstairs, said goodnight and went to their own doors. Altaïr just went into his room when he heard Connor say his name. He looked into the hall and saw Connor standing in front of his door, his cheeks and eyes still red from crying.

"What's wrong Connor?" Altaïr asked.

"I was just wondering…" Connor started.

"Yes?" Altaïr asked again.

"Could you… Maybe… Please.." And he looked into his own room.

Altaïr walked out of his room and closed the door. "Join you?"

Connor's cheeks turned even more red, but not from the crying. He nodded a little.

Altaïr smiled a little and walked over to him. "Of course Connor."

They changed into their night clothes – only the trousers – and lied on Connor's bed. Altaïr pulled the covers over them and watched Connor's face next to him, which he could barely see. Hesitatingly, Altaïr reached under the covers and held Connor's hand.

Connor watched him. "Altaïr… Do you think this is right?"

Altaïr looked into his beautiful eyes. "I don't think it is Connor… But it does feel right."

Connor looked back. "Yes…"

Altaïr played with Connor's fingers, then they lied closer to each other and cuddled. He stroked the other man's chest and kissed his head softly several times.

After a while, Connor whispered: "Thank you Altaïr…"

"For what?" whispered Altaïr back.

"Being so kind to me… You would have never done this when we first met."

Altaïr was silent for a bit. "I'm trying to change… I realized I have been so unkind to you, to everybody really. But there's no need to, there are other things more important than being the best. And you showed me that, so I have to thank you."

Connor smiled. "I think you can do it Altaïr."

"What?"

"Change." Connor said determined.

"I hope so Connor… I'll do my best."

"Good." Connor held Altaïr's chin and pulled his face to his. Altaïr blushed a little when their faces got so close and Connor kissed his lips softly. Immediately Altaïr wanted more and kissed Connor again, but for longer. Connor pulled Altaïr closer to him and kissed back slowly. Altaïr licked Connor's lips and slipped his tongue into the other assassin's mouth. He explored Connor's mouth and played with his tongue. Connor groaned softly and they broke apart, panting.

Although his dick told him otherwise, Altaïr thought it was best to leave it at just kissing. Connor was very fragile now and he didn't want to upset him anyhow.

They kissed again and fell asleep in each other's arms.


	13. Chapter 13

Days had passed without the assassins doing anything. They had stayed home to just take it slow, so that Connor could get over Achilles' death. Altaïr thought it was best to leave him be and enjoyed his free time alone by riding through the Frontier and hunting.

But unfortunately, to all good comes an end. They were having dinner in silence when Connor spoke up.

"Altaïr, I think we've been inactive for far too long. It's time we continue our fight against the Templars."

"What do you suggest? I assume you will take over the role of Achilles as the leader of the Brotherhood in America?"

Connor looked at him, doubting.

"Yes... I think I should. But will you help me?" He said after a while.

"Of course Connor, I'll help you start up the Brotherhood again. But after that... You'll be on your own."

Connor looked away, but nodded.

"Anyway, do you have a plan?" Altaïr changed the subject back to their current situation.

"Ah yes. I have been thinking and I think it's best if we split up." He looked at Altaïr again and Altaïr looked back, surprised.

"Split up?"

"Yes. One of us goes to New York, the other to Boston. There we'll try to gather information on the Templar business. Because we're spread out, we'll get the information quicker so we won't lose time. Also, we'll use the other assassins that are already in the cities. We could even recruit some new ones. So they will help us, and besides that they will be getting training which is good for them. How does that sound?"

Altaïr had been silently listening to Connor's plan. He nodded slowly.

"A very good plan Connor." He admitted.

Connor smiled at him. "Thank you."

"But for how long? How will we give each other information? When will we meet again?"

"We'll use letters, sent by our own assassins. That way we will plan when we meet again to destroy the Templars, if we're lucky."

"Very well." Said Altaïr, wondering if Connor could really destroy his father, the Templar Leader.

After dinner they went to bed, because they would get up early the next morning to set off for Boston and New York. They had gone upstairs, said goodnight and had put their night clothes on.

Once alone in his room, Altaïr watched out of his window. As the winter was nearing, it was already dark outside. Soon there would be snow, Connor had told him. Looking at the sky but not being able to see anything, Altaïr closed the curtains and slowly went to bed.

He was almost asleep when he heard a soft knock on his door.

"Yes?" He whispered, a little annoyed.

The door opened and Connor stepped in his room. Altaïr watched him as he stood still in the doorway, so awkward...

"What's wrong?" He asked.

Connor looked at the floor and played with his fingers. He mumbled something but the Syrian assassin couldn't hear him.

"What?" He asked again.

Now Connor looked up and after a little while he said: "I'll miss you..."

Altaïr's expression softened and he sat up. "Connor..."

"I know it's stupid. You probably find it stupid. But I like being around you. I like you..." Connor looked at the floor again.

Suddenly, Altaïr got up and stood in front of him. With his hand he gently lifted Connor's chin so he could look into his eyes. He could feel the other assassin shaking, he was nervous.

Slowly Altaïr leaned in and kissed Connor's lips softly.

"I like you too Connor." Altaïr heard himself say. He closed the door and his lips were on Connor's again, kissing him slowly. He could feel him tensing up a little, but he kissed back after a while.

To Altaïr's surprise, Connor slipped his tongue into his friend's mouth. Altaïr let him explore before he touched his tongue with his own.

Altaïr pulled Connor closer to him, pressing their bodies together. He wanted something, something he had been wanting for a while now. And he could feel Connor wanted it to...

He pulled Connor towards his bed while they took each other's clothes off hungrily. Altaïr glanced down and stared at the other's dick, but he didn't had much time to admire it because Connor held his hips and pulled him against his own. Altaïr heard him groan softly and he smirked.

They started grinding and Altaïr kissed his lover passionately. He let his hands glide over his body, grabbed his arse and squeezed his cheeks. It made Connor groan again, a sound which aroused Altaïr even more.

He lied Connor on his side in his bed and Altaïr himself lied behind him. Kissing the American's neck, Altaïr held his hip, stroked it softly with his thumb and then let his hand slide to his dick and he touched it with his fingertips. He could feel it was already rock hard but at the same time so soft...

Connor was panting and Altaïr pressed the tip of his own dick against the other's arse hole. It made the American assassin tense up, but he didn't move away.

Wrapping his hand around Connor's dick, Altaïr started stroking him. He sucked his neck and thrust slowly against his hole, occasionally pushing a little harder so the tip of his dick actually got in, making them both groan in pleasure.

Altaïr moved his hand faster and he was thrusting in that same rhythm. Connor precummed a lot, so he gripped tightly and used the precum to stroke harder. He used his own to thrust a little deeper every time, until he was pushing his dick fully into Connor.

Connor groaned his name and Altaïr groaned his in return. He closed his eyes and focused on their movements. He started slowly, but as soon as Connor was moving with him, pushing his arse into Altaïr's hips to ask for more, the Syrian assassin rammed faster and faster.

They moaned loud, over and over as their breathing got heavier. Altaïr bit Connor's neck and squeezed his dick several times while stroking.

"Altaïr..." Connor managed to get out.

Altaïr rammed deeper, pushing the other into the bed. "Cum for me..." Altaïr whispered in his ear and immediately Connor did so. Some of it went on his hand and he could feel the warmth of it while he cummed deep inside his lover.

Both panting hard, they relaxed slowly. Altaïr let go of Connor's dick, but he didn't move.

After he had calmed down, Altaïr turned Connor around and pulled him close.

"Are you alright?" He asked worried.

Connor closed his eyes, cuddled Altaïr and smiled. "Yes Altaïr, that was amazing..."

The Syrian assassin smiled back and closed his eyes as well.

It was late in the evening when Altaïr arrived in Boston. When he woke up that morning, Connor had already left. It made him feel uneasy. Had he hurt him? Didn't he want sex? Had it been too much? The last thing Altaïr wanted, was lose his new friend...

Shaking his head to clear it from all these thoughts, he made his way to the assassin hideout - as described by Connor last night, because Altaïr had never been there, even though his own assassins were there – and found 'the entrance in the ground' as he had been told. He opened the hatch and closed it behind him. Had Connor not told him to bring a lantern, he would be in complete darkness now.

Altaïr slowly walked down the steps, deeper into the earth. He reached into his robes and pulled out the map of the tunnels that Connor had drawn himself. There was a circle around the door that led to the assassins hideout, but Altaïr first had to find it through this maze of tunnels. Carefully he started walking, the sound of his footsteps echoed against the walls. _I hope there are no guards here, they will hear me coming from miles away..._ Altaïr thought to himself, annoyed.

After a while, he saw movement and was immediately on his guard. Small creatures ran away into the darkness as he walked to them, shining the light of his lantern at them. They were rats. Altaïr relaxed and took a deep breath. This darkness was making him nervous.

Then he heard another sound. Altaïr froze and listened carefully, slowing down his breathing. No rats this time. He heard voices and he cursed. Guards.

Altaïr walked as silent as a predator into the direction of where the sound was coming from and found there were three guards in a room lit by lanterns. He had put the fire in his lantern out and pressed his back against the wall of the room close to the door. Using the light coming from the room, he took a good look on the map. Yup, the only way to the hideout was through this room.

"Are you sure these tunnels are being used by those bloody assassins?" He heard one of the guards say.

"I told you I saw one! We must be on our guard, these tunnels aren't safe!" Another guard responded.

"What exactly is so bad about these assassins?" The third said, his voice shaking.

"What is so bad about assassins? They cut your throat open if they don't like your face! They are merciless demons, more dangerous and evil than the devil himself, if you ask me!" The second guard spoke again.

"Oh..."

"They have weapons all over there body, they are stronger than a work horse and faster than a cheetah. They have eyes and ears everywhere! They might be watching us right now, at this very moment!"

"Do you really think they are?!" The third guard spoke again, scared.

"Could be." Altaïr said simply, stepping into the light.

"Assassin!" The guard yelled together but before they all had their swords ready, one of them already fell to the floor, a throwing knife in his neck.

The two remaining guards looked at their colleague in horror.

"Interesting bed time stories you told these boys," Altaïr addressed the second guard who had been scaring the other two, and continued: "well then, time to sleep now right?"

Altaïr jumped in the air, flicking his hidden blade out and landed on one of them and thrust the blade through his neck. Without a sound the guard died, his eyes still wide open in fear and surprise.

"Have mercy!" The last guard yelled as Altaïr stood up and looked at him from under his hood.

He only grinned and kicked the guard in his stomach so he doubled over, then Altaïr grabbed his head and twisted it. He heard a terrible crack and the body of the guard went weak and fell on the floor.

Looking satisfied at what he had done – finally some action after all those days – Altaïr grabbed a lantern from the wall and continued on.

He didn't had to walk far anymore. Finally he climbed up the stairs that should lead to the assassins hideout, but found he could not open the hatch. Starting to worry, he looked around in the room he was trapped in.

Altaïr found an odd thing in the middle of the room. He walked over to it and as he touched it, it lit up. A light shone at the door, making symbols on the wood. Altaïr looked confused. What does this mean...? Then he remembered a piece of paper Connor had given him, saying he will need it. He searched for it in his robes and when he finally read it, he realized it was a riddle.

He read it over and over, it felt like a hundred times. He thought hard, but the riddle was difficult. When Altaïr almost gave up, an idea came into his mind.

 _Could it be the answer...?_ Altaïr thought as he looked at the piece of paper again. He looked at the device that was shining the light onto the door and carefully rotated the lenses. When the Syrian assassin was done he heard a sound, as if something heavy was being moved and he slowly walked up to the door. He tried to open it again and the door moved. Altaïr sighed in relief and narrowed his eyes when bright light greeted him.

"Altaïr! We had been expecting you!" The skin colour and the accent of the assassin told Altaïr this was one of his Syrian assassins.

"Really?" Altaïr looked confused. Had the guards already noticed him?

"Yes, master Connor sent a note. But please come in, you must be tired from your journey. Would you like something to eat?"

Altaïr followed the man into a dining room. There were some dirty plates on the table; apparently the other assassins had had their dinner already. The curtains were closed and the room was lit by a few candles, but mainly the light came from the fireplace. Above it hung a painting of some landscape.

He was told to take a seat while the other assassin cooked him something. Altaïr chose the most comfortable one and sat down. He sighed in relief and leaned back in the soft chair. Closing his eyes, he realized he was indeed tired of his journey. His feet ached, his arms were heavy and he couldn't keep his eyes open. Especially not with this warmth and the comfortableness of the chair... _I'm getting older..._ Altaïr thought sadly. _I can't run around like I used to... Or is it this place that makes me feel old? But is it really a feeling of growing older? Isn't it a feeling of getting more... mature? I changed a lot since I left Syria... But a lot happened of course, the death of Kadar, of Achilles, but also of American Templars. And... Connor happened... Connor..._ His mind wandered off to his lover. His voice, his scent. But especially how his body felt against his, how his warm and hard, but yet also soft dick had felt in his hand. How thrusting into him had felt... Mmm...

Just as Altaïr was almost falling asleep, a delicious scent reached his nose. He opened his eyes and saw the other Syrian assassin walking in with a plate.

"There you go," He smiled at him. "Once you've finished this I'll show you your room. We'll start tomorrow."

"Thanks..."

The assassin looked confused when Altaïr thanked him and slowly walked away.

Altaïr shrugged and started eating, he was hungry.


	14. Chapter 14

Everything Altaïr found out about the Templar business, he sent to Connor. It wasn't much, unfortunately. It was as if the two most important Templars, Connor's father Haytham and his 'friend' Charles had disappeared from this world. Had they given up? Had the assassins finally won the battle? That was what the younger assassins thought, here at the assassins hideout. But Altaïr knew better. They were preparing for something…

But what was going on? Altaïr didn't know. He had been training some recruits specifically in eavesdropping and some were even spies, working as guards. While they were doing the fieldwork, Altaïr tried to improve some things for the assassins in Boston. First of all, he renovated the hideout. It was old, and some rooms were not being used which could be very handy as a map room, for example. He also made his own room in the house, with a desk at which he was often working. From fighting he had suddenly gone to writing. Writing letters to Connor, doing administration for the brotherhood, making plans… It wasn't how he liked it, but he just had to do this for a short period, until Connor and he would take up arms again against the Templars.

He still came outside though, looking for men willing to find for his cause. He did this together with his assassins from Syria and he gave them the task to train the recruits. The assassins who had already been in Boston really needed some more training, as they only knew the basics. He had been training them in defending the hideout and fighting.

Day after day, the assassins in Boston grew stronger. Altaïr was proud of the work he had done. One night, one of the Syrian assassins sat down next to him in the living room. Altaïr looked up from the book he was reading to greet the other, then went back to reading. After a short while though, the assassin next to him spoke up.

"Master Altaïr?" He asked, doubt in his voice.

"Yes?" Altaïr realized he still didn't know the assassins' names.

"I just wanted to tell you, that I and the other assassins who came with you to the Colonies, have noticed a big change in you…"

Altaïr looked at him, confused. "What?"

"I mean, a good change!" The assassin quickly said.

"Go on…" Altaïr's face changed from confused to interested.

The assassin took a deep breath. "Well master… We've noticed that, since you've spent some time here and met other people, you're not as… Hmm, Well… You're a lot nicer." The assassin smiled a little.

"Nicer?"

"Yes, it really feels like you care about us now, about all the assassins here in Boston. And not only us, but also about the state this building was in." He tried to explain and added after a short silence: "I don't know how it happened, this change in you, whether it was this new country or someone you met, but I can assure you that everybody likes this new Altaïr."

Altaïr looked at the smiling face of the man next to him. He let what he had said sink in and then smiled back.

"Thank you."

The man nodded, got up and left Altaïr to continue reading. But he found he couldn't. He knew who made this change in his behaviour, his attitude, his heart… He thought about Connor. It was him who changed Altaïr…

Every night, after the recruits reported back to Altaïr, the Syrian assassin wrote letters to Connor, saying what they found out. But after a week, Altaïr got worried. Connor had not replied for 2 weeks.

Altaïr sat at his desk, reading the last letters Connor had sent him. He was searching for something. Something that would explain why he wasn't writing him back. Altaïr realised he felt a bit heartbroken…

 _Maybe they haven't given up, maybe we have…_ Altaïr suddenly thought. _Why isn't Connor replying to my letters? Does he not care about me anymore? Has he found a better partner? Yes yes, Connor has ignored me for a while before… I guess this is just normal then; maybe he found something out and he's planning something without me. Great…_ Altaïr threw his feather on the desk in front of him and rested his face in his hands, sighing deeply. He rubbed his tired face when suddenly a thought came to his mind. _What if… Connor has joined his father? What if he has joined the side of the Templars?_ Altaïr heart started racing. _No… Then my assassins would have told me, right? …What if they joined the Templars too!? No no no, this can't be… I'm making up problems that don't even exist. Because Connor would make a very dangerous enemy…_

His thoughts were interrupted by an assassin suddenly bursting into his room, panting hard. He had never seen this man before, and behind him a Boston assassin appeared.

"Master Altaïr, this man is an assassin from New York and he brings important news!"

"Master! Connor is preparing something, and it will happen soon. He won't tell us what but I fear it has something to do with Charles Lee. I wasn't sure if he told you, so I ran away to inform you. His mind and heart have been filled with hatred and anger lately you see, I was worried about him… I hoped you could help us master Altaïr."

Altaïr nodded and immediately ran out of the room, shouting to the assassins behind him. "Get everybody ready and ride for New York!"

Altaïr rushed on his horse through the trees. The sun went down and the sun came up, but he didn't take a rest. Not even for his horse. He kept thrusting his heels in its flanks, trying to make it go faster but it couldn't. While his horse breathed heavily, there was only one thought in Altaïr's mind: _I hope he doesn't do something stupid…_

Finally, Altaïr saw the town in front of him. He tried to make his horse go even faster as he almost reached the entrance. But just before that happened, an incredibly loud noise reached their ears. The horse was frightened by the sound, making it rear up in fear. Altaïr fell off and hit the ground hard. He sat up and rubbed his aching back, while watching the horse run off as more of those noises followed.

 _Sounds like… A ship? What is Connor up to…_ Altaïr thought as he made his way into the city.

It was hard to get to the place where the bombing was happening. Men and women, children and even some cowardly guards were running into his direction, away from the threat. He searched for Connor quickly and in panic, which is not a good combination. But after some time, he found him.

He found him fighting… Haytham? Altaïr recognized him from the pictures in the basement back in the Homestead.

First, confusion came into his mind. Didn't the assassin say Connor was planning something for Charles Lee? But here he was, fighting his own dad. It must have been some kind of trap…

Secondly, he was suddenly filled with worries as he realised Connor was covered in blood , stumbling and fighting badly. How was he supposed to fight Haytham this way? How was he supposed to… (more worries filled his heart) … kill Haytham? No, the question was not, is he able to, but CAN he take his father's life?

After being beaten up pretty badly by his father, the fight took an interesting turn. Connor managed to stab Haytham in his arm, making Haytham groan in pain.

"Give me Lee!" He heard Connor shout over the sound of the bells being rang.

They talked for a bit, but Altaïr couldn't hear what they said. As Haytham pulled his sword out, Altaïr realised he couldn't sit there and watch. He needed to help his friend.

Jumping down to where the two were fighting, he got his own sword ready. As he landed next to Connor, the American assassin looked at him in surprise, his tomahawk in his right hand.

"Altaïr…?"

"Don't worry Connor, I'm here to help you." Altaïr said quickly and faced there enemy.

"Well well Connor! You brought a friend!"

"Leave him out of this. This is our fight." Connor said, making Altaïr look at him in surprise.

"What-?"

"Very well!" Haytham quickly pushed Altaïr away and he landed against a market stall. It collapsed and as Altaïr fell to the ground, so did the wooden beams. Covered in bruises and some blood now, Altaïr struggled to get out while the fight continued on.

He watched them from under the wood, but Haytham clearly had the upperhand. _He both isn't ABLE to fight him, and he CAN'T do it…_ Altaïr thought in panic as he tried to lift the heavy beams.

Connor was lying on the ground, Haytham on top of him, his hidden blade on his neck. He told him why the Templar order would never be destroyed. How they would live, and how the assassins would die. When he was done, he raised his arm to thrust his hidden blade into Connor's neck. Connor had his hidden blade out but he laid still, watching his father's face. Then, Haytham moved his arm down fast. Connor closed his eyes and gripped his hands. And then… Nothing.

He opened his eyes and saw the grey sky. Grey, because of the smoke of the bombing. Grey, because lives had been lost that day. Too many lives. He felt a soft breeze on his cheek and he breathed that air in. He felt no pain. He looked at where Altaïr was thrown into the market stall by his father, but he was not there anymore. Connor sighed, and looked on his other side. Men and women dressed in white where standing there. Assassins, surrounding something. Connor looked again.

Altaïr laid there. On top of Haytham. Their bodies still and limp.

Confused, Connor felt his neck. Nothing… He sat up, looked at his hands and moved his fingers. He smiled when he realised he was not dead. Then, his smile completely vanished from his face.

Connor crawled to the two bodies, pushing the assassins aside. He gently rolled Altaïr off, so he could see his face. Blood poured out of the wound in his neck. Connor looked at him in shock.

Altaïr looked back and smiled a little.

"I told you… You couldn't do it.." Connor held his friend as he said this.

"No no… Altaïr… This sacrifice… It's too much.." Tears started forming in his eyes.

"One of us.. had to do it Connor… Don't worry about it.."

Connor held Altaïr's hands, tears rolling down his face.

"Go after him… Connor… Get Lee…"

Connor nodded; he didn't want to speak because he knew his voice would fail him. He did dare to whisper: "I love you Altaïr…"

"I love you too Connor." Was Altaïr's answer.

Connor smiled, through his tears, and looked determined. "I'll kill him for you."

Altaïr smiled back. Connor kissed him softly on his lips and then he stood up and walked away. He didn't look back once, leaving the assassins to take care of Altaïr.


End file.
